


You Do Something To Me

by stonegirl77



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU that's our universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Death, Death of a Parent, Death of a pet, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Kidnapping, Killing, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, violence later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:17:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 51,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonegirl77/pseuds/stonegirl77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of rotting in jail in Asgard for trying to enslave Earth, Odin sent Loki to our (parallel) universe. Here things are as we know them, Marvel characters are fictional, and Greenwich is still standing. Tessa Michaelson, a just-out-of-uni writer, has the misfortune of running into our God of Mischief...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who, But You

_‘There is nothing quite like London in the winter - when you can walk around in your awesome ankle-length coat, bought before Sherlock made it cool, thank you very much, push your hands in your pockets and just stride around the city, feeling your hair blow in the wind. Tea, coffee, and other hot beverages become suddenly more important than ever, and hats, gloves and scarves of every description suddenly appear._

_Of course, the worst part of London in the winter is how awfully hot it then becomes to go inside, away from the wind and the weather. Suddenly, you boil in the confines of your woollen jacket, contemplate ripping off any scarf, hat, or gloves that you’ve worn’_

 

I couldn’t get any further. Much as I tried, I had lost the plot of the blog post I was supposed to be writing and I didn’t seem to be able to make myself finish. I wanted to write something about London - about how frakking atmospheric it got when it was cold, when I could walk around, nose almost pushed into my scarf it was so cold, and just feel the city around me, feel the age and the vibrancy, and, goddamn it, it just wasn’t coming today!

With a sigh, I looked up from my laptop screen. I’d snagged a stool at the bar that went along the window at my chosen coffee shop of the day, and I stared at the passersby, unashamedly. It was another thing I loved to do - watch people. The mothers with their children, the hipsters, especially in this part of London, with their floppy beanies and practically painted on jeans, the businessmen with their tailored suits and overcoats, I loved them all. But at this precise moment, all the overcoated men in the world weren’t going to lift me from my mood.

Coffee might, though.

With a sigh, I levered myself off the bar stool - I’d become stiffer than I’d realised, wrestling with the blog - grabbed my wallet, and went over to the barista to order myself another coffee. I kept a wary eye on my laptop. Not only did it have my entire life on there, as I couldn’t remember to keep a backup for the life of me, but I really couldn’t afford to buy a new one if it got stolen. So I kept a wary eye on my spot and my baby. 

I took my eyes off my laptop just long enough to order - the usual, a medium latte, no syrup, just coffee - and smiled at the cute barista, who gave me my change and told me it would be right there. I loved this cafe. I’d been coming here for almost a year now, every other morning, to write. I felt safe here, which I suppose is why I left my laptop at my spot instead of carrying it with me in the first place.

This time, though, as I turned back to my seat, my view was obscured by someone’s back. I hurried over, and as I drew nearer, I could hear someone speaking through the ambient noise of the cafe.

“You do realise the owner of that particular item is right behind you?” a voice was saying. The baritone dripped with an impressive amount of condescension, and I saw that it was coming from the man that had been seated to my left. He hadn’t said anything to me when he’d sat down - I’d been so immersed in my writing that I’d barely noticed him sit at all. But now he was half-turned on his stool, looking positively bored as he regarded the man in front of me. How someone could simultaneously call out a potential thief and look so laid-back was beyond me. But this guy certainly managed, and with style.

He was dressed in slacks and a purple sweater, with a button-front shirt underneath, typical London casual wear, with the ubiquitous wool coat slung over the bar next to him. And he was gorgeous. He was tall without being gangly, with pale skin, high cheekbones and black hair that just flirted with the concept of being too long for good taste. All of which mattered very little at that moment, as I was still rather focused on the figure between me and my laptop, who had just moved far enough away for me to slide back onto my seat.

So slide I did, and the man who I still assumed had wanted to lift my laptop looked down at me. I stared back at him, settling my best blank face over my features. It was one I had perfected over years of uni, years of walking home without wanting to be bothered by anyone. My eyes stared, barely blinking. My mouth twitched with a smile, but one without any humour and as much malice as I could project. It was an expression that had worked reliably in the past, and it proved its worth once again, as the man turned and walked away without so much as a word.

I turned to my neighbour, dropping the resting bitch face and smiling. “Thank you,” I told him. “I really appreciate it. 

“Not a problem,” he said smoothly, still seeming bored, although marginally less so that he had been before. He paused, seeming momentarily unsure, then continued. “Perhaps you could do something for me in return?” His confidence was back as he asked, if he had in fact ever lost it, and he caught my eyes with his.

Boy oh boy was he pretty, I thought, staring into his face. ‘Anything,’ I almost said. But I didn’t. There were many things I would do for this man, for what he’d done. However, there were many things I wouldn’t do. So instead, I chose a different reply. 

“What did you have in mind?” I thought I saw him grin, teeth flashing even whiter than his skin. 

“Would you tell me what you were working on?”

That seemed harmless enough. “My blog.” He looked blank. “You know, web log? An online journal?” I made a face. “Not that I seem to be able to write anything this morning.”

“My sympathies.” I couldn’t tell whether or not he was mocking me, his tone was so dry. So I moved on. 

“Any chance I get to know your name?” I asked, feeling completely ridiculous. Too forward, too forward, my brain screamed. 

The guy just smiled even wider at me. “My name is Loki, of Asgard.”


	2. Don't Tell Me Who You Are

“I am Loki, of Asgard.” 

I had a moment of utter shock, then I realised my mouth had already started moving.

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re burdened with a glorious fricking porpoise. Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.” It was his turn to look stunned. Then angry.

“I am not lying.”

“Bullshit.” Why was my mouth moving of its own volition? It’s not like I was unhappy with what I was saying, but I didn’t think I’d made the decision to say it. The guy, pretender-Loki, stood. He loomed over me, and I felt short, even in my heels. I didn’t back down, though.

“If you will not take me at my word,” he continued, waving a hand almost nonchalantly at my computer, which started to emit smoke. My heart leaped into my throat as I tried to find out where the fire was - what could actually burn in a laptop? I’d just had the fans replaced a week ago.

“What the hell, dude!”

“It’s a mercy.” His voice was absolutely cold. “After all, your writing was scarcely worth the binary it was coded in.” Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he picked up his coat and, with another flourish, vanished. Disappeared, right in front of me. How was that possible? How could someone just - disapparate? I warred between wanting to kill the man for wrecking my computer, the screen beginning to peel up at the corners, wanting to run and hide from the criticism, and disbelief that said man had just made my computer go up in smoke, then vanished, using …magic?

“Your coffee?” It was the cute barista, cup and saucer in hand. I looked blankly at him, scarcely comprehending. “What’s with your computer? Make a fire demon angry?” I glanced at the now completely wrecked machine, still smoking, stained from the non-existent fire, warped and swaying from side to side in the breeze from the heating. 

“Something like that,” I said, accepting the coffee, not knowing what else to do.

 

 

“What happened to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, slinging off my coat and shovelling it into my locker. It was two in the afternoon, and I was just about to begin my shift at the bookstore. The remains of my laptop were still in my backpack, even though I’d had to wait a half-hour before it was cool enough to touch, almost burning my hands twice in the attempt. Besides, what was I supposed to say? That some guy had claimed to be Loki, the trickster god, and, when I hadn’t believed him, had burned my most valued possession to a crisp by some force I couldn’t explain? Yeah, that would work. 

“Fine, suit yourself.” I’d brushed past Vicky without a word of greeting, I realised, and that was scarcely fair. Apart from anything else, Vicky was my best friend at work, and I didn’t want to alienate her. 

“Sorry, Vicky,” I said, pulling myself together and pasting a smile on my face. “I’ve just had a rough morning.”

“Care to share?” the blonde asked as I stuck my name tag onto my shirt. 

“I don’t - I don’t think so, Vicky. Maybe some other time?” I really didn’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t even sure I believed what had happened. 

“All right then.” We wandered onto the floor. The store was almost empty, not unusual, by any means, for a weekday afternoon. We split up, she to take over custody of the register, I to walk the floors. There was nothing I liked better than walking through the bookshop. The quiet, the smell of books, the daydream that I might find my book one day published and stocked on these shelves. Assuming I ever wrote anything that was worth more than the binary it was coded in.

I seriously contemplated hitting the empty wall to my right, but decided it was more appropriate to a child, so decided against it. It would have been nice to have some shelving, some unpacking of books, something other than my mindless wandering to do, but it was my job, and I’d do it. 

I wandered through the fiction section, asking one couple if they needed anything. They wanted Wodehouse, so I directed them accordingly and went about my way. It was always a fine line, giving help in a bookstore. More often than not, people wanted to browse by themselves, finding new books on their own. So I’d developed a radar for those who were actually looking for help. They had a look - vaguely like marmots whose heads swivelled in the American prairie. They weren’t looking for a book, but for a person, and those were the people I talked to. 

I continued to wander, letting my fingers wander along the spines of the neatly arranged books as I traipsed through mystery and through to science fiction. And here, without realising it, had been my real goal. We had been expanding our graphic novel collection, and I suddenly found myself in front of the shelf full of comics. Of course, I’d been meaning to start reading a few for ages now, but I’d never really gotten around to it. And in light of the events at the coffee shop, which I still wasn’t sure I wasn’t dreaming - I mean, how does someone incinerate a laptop then disappear? - I thought I might need some guidance. From comic books.

Shaking my head at my own folly, I started pulling books and leafing through them. I was bombarded by stark, almost elementary colour, especially in the Avengers books. I paged through quickly, seeing if there was any mention of a certain God of Lies. I’d made my way through three books when I realised my problem. One, I was assuming that this person, might as well call him Loki, was the same Loki as in the Avengers-verse. Two, I was assuming I hadn’t been seeing things. It was far more likely that I’d been having some kind of hallucination, or nervous breakdown.

But even as I thought it, I didn’t believe it. A hallucination wouldn’t explain my scorched laptop, and I didn’t think I was crazy. Or at least, I wasn’t any crazier than usual. I put back the book with a sigh. No closure there.

I helped an elderly man find the travel books on the south of France before circling back to Vicky and the register. She was talking with someone as I approached, smiling up at him winsomely. He must be cute - Vicky made it a point to flirt with the cute men who came into the store, and the men in question didn’t ever seem to mind. Not that they would. Vicky was a confident, leggy blonde with a quick wit. Of course men went crazy for her. 

It looked like the transaction was about over though, because Vicky was putting a few books in a bag and handing him his receipt. In that moment, Vicky looked over and spotted me. She waved me over, but I shook my head. This was Vicky’s sale. As the man turned, I was grateful I hadn’t come closer. It was Loki-guy. I didn’t want to deal with him. Not here. Yelling at and possibly assaulting someone at your place of work wasn’t the best idea. I hid behind a rotating card rack, watching as he exited like a normal human, on two legs, walking out of the store. When I was sure he was gone, I emerged from the Happy Birthdays and went over to Vicky.

“You know he about you.” She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “And I quote, ‘Would you be able to tell me if there is a young woman with red hair who works in this establishment?’”

“In this establishment?” I asked, laughing at the construction and trying to divert Vicky from wondering why he would be asking for me. Not that I didn’t want to know myself. But explaining a scorched laptop didn’t seem like fun. 

“I know, right?” she laughed too. “He kept talking like that - like he was a character out of a Shakespeare play or something.”

“‘Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?’” I quoted, laughing harder.

“This is beyond you, metal man.” Vicky quoted back before dissolving into giggles of her own. “But seriously, though,” she said, once she’d regained her composure. “Why would he want to speak to you?”

“I have no idea,” I said, having lost all desire to laugh once the conversation had turned serious again. Vicky raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying the one-sentence dismissal. Some of the truth, then. “I ran into him at the coffee shop. He was an asshole.”

Vicky nodded. “I blew him off anyway. Cute or not, I don’t want you getting stalked by some weirdo.”

“Gee, thanks,” I said sarcastically, but my smile was genuine. It was nice to have friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about update schedules, and this is what I've decided: at least one new chapter a week, but I might do more, as and when I can.
> 
> Also, I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. Auf Wiedersehen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa just wants to go home, but she runs into Loki, again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks go to my amazing beta Touareg_princess - she's been awesome in helping me out with this chapter.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

I sighed as I pulled my hair out of its pins. Finally alone. Vicky had left in a hurry - meeting friends for a drink after work, and I was alone in the bookstore, closing up. I finished getting all of the pins out of my hair and shook my head once, twice to settle my hair appropriately around my shoulders. I went through the ritual last wander through the rooms to make sure no one was still there - ever since the incident at the Waterstone’s near Trafalgar Square, we’d been told to be extra careful. 

I flipped off lights as I went, plunging the bookshop room by room into darkness. Closing was my favourite activity at the bookstore. I loved the quiet, the feeling of just myself and the books, and I did my best to enjoy the peace as I double-checked the register. Shut up tight. I was so relaxed that I made an effort not to think about what had happened that day. I’d ride the happiness I felt just then as long as I could. No worrying about replacing a laptop with money I didn’t have, or dealing with possible Norse gods. Nope, not thinking about that at all.

So I lingered by the front displays, running fingers along the spines of the books, picking one up at random, opening it and ruffling the pages to get that wonderful new book smell. I double and triple-checked the back door as I locked it. The bookstore was old, and the door had a tendency to stay open if we weren’t careful, so I tugged on the handle one final time before heading around the corner with a spring in my step.

But because my day was doomed not to be easy, there was someone waiting in front of the bookstore. Tall, overcoated, and male. Long black hair, and as I realised that, he turned, and I recognised him. Loki. He’d seen me as well, so there was no escape, and I almost felt a thrill of fear run down my spine. It wasn’t unreasonable that he was here to hurt me, after all. The street was fairly deserted in the lull between people going home from work and out to the clubs, and I tensed, half-thinking of turning and going back in the other direction.

I continued on my way one, two, three more steps, then stopped. He was three yards away - plenty close enough for him to hear me, on this quiet street, but far enough away that I could still run if I had to. Or I could try, anyway. I’d always been this way, constantly calculating, plotting, trying to peer into the future and come up with every possible permutation and a way around it. It was no different now, as I set myself in a stance I half-remembered from my one year of martial arts, balanced on both feet, right slightly in front of left.

“What are you doing here?” I asked when he just continued to stare at me, unmoving. “Come to apologise for destroying my laptop?” It probably wasn’t wise to bait the man, I thought, but I couldn’t help it. I was still furious. And he didn’t seem too dangerous, not at the moment. _Don’t get cocky_ , I warned myself.

The man - Loki was as good a name for him as any - smiled. The smile started at one corner of his lips, and that corner tugged the rest of his mouth up into a snarky, sarcastic, yet devastating grin. “I simply wish to discover what is different about you, mortal.”

“Mortal?” He’d definitely seen the Avengers one too many times. “Ha. And there’s nothing different about me.” I tugged an earlobe. “One hundred percent homo sapiens sapiens.” I’d seen a flash of something as I tugged my ear. Could tugging an ear be an insult on Planet Crazytown?

“I sincerely doubt that,” he said, taking a few steps towards me. I moved back. “I will not hurt you, m-“ he stopped. “Tessa. I will not hurt you.”

“Too late,” I snarked, liking in spite of myself how my name sounded coming from his lips. And how had he learned my name anyway? He vanished, then something touched my shoulder from behind. I shrieked and spun. There he was, less than a yard from me. I backed up again. 

“I will not hurt you again.” He was still calm, still utterly controlled. My heart, though, was trying to take flight within my chest, I was starting to sweat, and my brain was going in several directions at once. He gave me the time I needed to gather myself, to take two deep breaths, and I hated him for it. 

“You won’t hurt me again,” I repeated. “So what?” He looked confused. “What do you want with me? Why me? And, in case we’ve forgotten - you destroyed my laptop! Why should I do anything for you?” My voice may have risen slightly on the last question or two, but I kept myself mostly under control. He didn’t say anything. Again. So of course, my curiosity got the better of me. “So, which Loki are you?” I was probably feeding into this guy’s delusion by giving him his chosen name, but at this point, I really didn’t care.

“Which Loki?” It was his turn to be confused. 

“Which Loki.” I confirmed. “The Norse mythology version, the Avengers version, the I’ve-got-daddy-issues-and-millions-of-fangirls-everywhere-love-me Loki - pick one.”

“I am…” He seemed lost for words, something I supposed was unusual for him. “I am Loki. Son of Laufey, raised by Odin and Frigga, brother of Thor.” I couldn’t really say anything about that. If he was anything like the version in the Avengers, that sentence would have been difficult for him. 

“Ok, different question.” He quirked an eyebrow, and I realised I was very close to having a normal conversation with the man. That was dangerous. “That was magic, right? You going all fire demon on my laptop, the Apparating?”

“Apparating?”

“Read Harry Potter.” I told him shortly. 

“Yes. That was magic.” He stepped forward again, eagerly. I retreated, again. I was starting to run out of sidewalk. He put his hands out in front of him, palms towards me. It was meant to be a placating gesture. I didn’t feel placated.

“Well then,” I said, making my decision. This whole thing was just too crazy for words. “I don’t want any part of it.” He was about to speak, but I kept on talking. “I’ve read the books and seen the movies - going on epic adventures filled with magic and wonder lead to pain, trouble, and probable death, especially for the supporting cast. Thanks, but no thanks.” This time my step was towards the man. “If you don’t want to hurt me, Loki, leave me alone.” And with that, I spun on my heel and walked to the Tube station, half-expecting another hand on my shoulder. There was none.

 

...........................................................

 

 

 

“Honey, I’m home,” I called as I shed out of my coat for hopefully the last time that day. 

“Hey, T,” a male voice called from the living room. “How was your day?”

“Do you know how to fix a burned laptop?” I asked, bringing the now completely cool machine in the room with me. I went to flop down on the couch, but was stopped by an enthusiastic German Shepherd jumping up and trying to lick my cheek. “Hi Steve,” I crooned, bending down to pet the dog properly. “Did you have a good day without me, buddy?” Steve wagged his tail, sniffing my ear appreciatively.

“Burned laptop?” Anton was on the other end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, the picture of relaxation. He’d lifted his head, though, at the laptop comment. I fished the item out of my bag.

“Burned.” I passed it over, then went back to the dog. Dogs were so much better than people. Especially tall, handsome, magical people.

“Dear God in Heaven, woman, what did you do to this thing?” Anton’s Romanian accent came out when he got excited.

“Woman?” came a voice from the kitchen. I stopped petting the dog and went over to greet my other roommate. 

“Hi Ginny,” I said, leaning on the doorjamb between kitchen and living room. “I didn’t know you’d be home.” Ginny was a baker, or an apprentice baker, and she tended to keep really odd hours. She also lived in the kitchen, when she wasn’t sleeping. Or watching the occasional movie with Anton and me.

“Oh, they let me off early tonight - I’ve got to be in at some absurd time tomorrow morning, though.” Ginny’s perfectly upper-crust accent had surprised me, the first time we’d met. I’d expected something different from a woman wearing cargo pants and a faded band t-shirt, but Ginny always spoke like she was at the Queen’s garden party.

“Gross,” I said in sympathy. There was flour over one of the countertops, and the oven was filling the kitchen with the scents of butter and sugar. “What are you making?”

“Croissants,” she said, washing a bowl. “And what happened to your computer anyway?”

“Long story.” Ginny gave me a look. “Seriously. I’d tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Ginny dried her hands on her apron. Yes, the woman wore an apron in all seriousness, a plain white one that tied twice around her middle. “Now, Tessa,” she said, undoing said apron strings and hanging the apron on its hook. “We’re your friends. Your roommates. You know you can tell us anything, right?” She pushed me back into the living room, falling onto the couch next to Anton and pulling me beside her. Anton was still engrossed in the mess that had once been my laptop. Steve came up to us and put his head on my lap. Automatically, I scratched between his ears. 

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” I told the dog. “Not like some people, who show up from nowhere, do magic, wreck your laptop, then show up after work.” Steve had always been my best source of therapy. Nothing lowers your stress quotient better than an adorable puppy. 

“So someone did this to your computer?” Ginny asked. This was usually how I told her things - I told them to Steve, then she squeezed the rest out of me, bit by bit, like pate a choux out of her pastry bags. 

“Some joker who calls himself Loki,” Anton snorted. “Yeah, that Loki, got pissy when I wouldn’t believe he was who he said he was, so, he, well, magicked my laptop into burning, then vanished. Then he showed up as I was leaving the bookstore. I told him to get lost.”

“Magic?” Anton was still poking around in the bowels of my laptop, smudges of dirt migrating seemingly of their own volition from the electronics to his person. Ginny snuggled a bit closer, and Anton absentmindedly put an arm around her shoulders. They were the strangest couple, but they worked.

“How else do you explain a laptop spontaneously combusting? Or someone disappearing right in front of you? Or disappearing in front of you, and then reappearing behind you?” My voice rose as I finally let out my frustration. “If there’s a scientific explanation, Anton, I’d love to hear it. And don’t Arthur C. Clarke me - if I don’t get it, and you don’t get it, we might as well just call it magic without wondering if we’ll ever understand it.”

“Tessa?” Ginny put a hand to my forehead. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“I told you,” I shot back, “I told you you’d think I’m nuts.” I leaned back further into the sofa. “I wish I were nuts.” I sighed. “So, Anton. What’s the damage on my baby?”

I heard Anton sigh and knew it was bad news. “Your boy definitely did a number on this. Your motherboard’s completely fried. The graphics card is - melted? And the hard drive? I think he managed to fuse it together. I have no _idea_ how he did it. Sorry, T. I don’t think even I can do anything about this one.” I tried to burrow even further into the couch. I’d feared as much. “You can use an old one of mine,” he offered. Anton had several laptops in different stages of upgrade lying around at all times, courtesy of his tech job. He didn’t say who he worked for, and I didn’t ask. 

“Thanks, Toni,” I said, discouraged. All the work for the past two weeks, gone. Tens of thousands of words of writing, pictures, not to mention the fact that I’d saved up for that laptop for years, all gone. Loki really was a son of a bitch. 

“I’ll set it up tonight,” he continued. “Oh, and do you mind if I keep your old one?”

“Sure,” I said. Why not? It’s not as if I’d be using it anymore. 

“I want to see if I can figure out what the hell happened.” 

“If you figure it out,” I said, “Let me know.” I buried as far into the couch as I could, trying to shut out the world. 


	4. Exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa finds a present on her doorstep, and it's not even Christmas. Also, Loki knows how to use a cellphone.

Two mornings after the Day of Norse Gods Past, as I’d taken to calling it, I opened my door to a package. More accurately, a present. It wasa box, wrapped in shiny green paper, with a golden bow. I picked it up and looked at the tag. 

 

‘Tessa. Apologies for my earlier behaviour. I hope you find this appropriate recompense. - L’ It was written by hand, in impeccable cursive. ‘Appropriate recompense’ indeed. I snorted as I tore off the wrapping paper, and stopped. Inside was another MacBook Pro. The brand new version, that had just come out two months ago. I moved to the couch, wanting a place to sit down. Almost reverently, I opened the box. 

 

Inside was not a writhing mass of snakes, as I had half-expected, but an aluminum rectangle with the familiar white glass apple. I stroked a finger over the emblem for a minute or two, hardly comprehending. The infuriating man had just sent me a laptop. To replace the one he had destroyed. But a better model. I. I. I couldn’t quite form sentences. 

 

“What’s that?” Anton asked, still half-drowsy. I had meant to go on a run this morning, take Steve out for some exercise before anyone else got up. I pulled out the seemingly brand-new laptop from its packaging and handed it over. It felt slightly different to my old one - they must have made some changes to the new model.

 

“Our favourite God of Mischief eft this for me,” I told Anton. “Any chance you could check if there’s nasty stuff on it?”

 

“You’re going to use it?” Anton asked, flipping over the laptop and examining the underside. “The way you were talking a few days ago, I’d have thought you would have tossed it off the balcony. Then firebombed it. And then stamped on it, just for good measure.”

 

“I suppose,” I replied, watching him move to the table and boot up the laptop. “But as much as I appreciate your generosity in lending me a laptop, and I do appreciate it, you know,” Anton shot me a smug smile, which I ignored, “I’m a Mac person. And you’re not.”

 

“Macs are for wusses who can’t do their own programming,” he said automatically.

 

“My point.” I shrugged. It was a long-standing argument between us. “And since I don’t have the money to replace my baby lying around, I’ll accept the gift. After having it thoroughly examined, of course.” I still hated having lost so much work, but it would be nice to have a Mac again. I’d been struggling with the IBM Anton had loaned me, and I’d be glad to have my normal OS back. Not that I forgave the Asgardian jerk for wrecking my laptop in the first place, of course.

 

“Weren’t you about to go running?” Anton asked a few minutes later. I looked at him. Usually he was dead to the world when he had a piece of technology in front of him. Then I saw Steve next to him, grinning in that doggie way of his. I had to smile.

 

“Come on, Stevie,” I said, and the dog bounded over to me. “Let’s get out of Toni’s hair.” I grabbed the leash and clipped it around the German Shepherd’s collar, neatly avoiding Steve’s sloppy kiss. We headed out the door and into London’s predawn light.

 

We headed south, towards the Embankment. Not many people ran with their dogs in this city, but not many people ran this early in the morning either. I nodded to the forty-something man in the high-vis jacket as I usually did, the universal runner’s greeting. The mum in her race sweatshirt held up a hand as well as Steve and I passed her. Neither the dog or I were particularly fast runners to begin with, but we’d been running this stretch for so long that speed had been the inevitable result. 

 

We were both panting by the time we reached the far side of Blackfriar’s Bridge. As I went to turn around, I checked my phone, strapped to my arm. There was a text from a number I didn’t recognise. 

“Sit, Steve,” I told the dog, who was only too happy to flop down at my feet as I extricated the phone. 

 

**I hope you received my apology - Loki.**  

 

I sighed, hardly surprised. I supposed even a god needed a cellphone in 21st century London. I petted Steve absently with a foot as I started to write back. Something told me that if I didn’t reply, Loki would just write again. 

 

**I’d say thank you, but as you’re the reason I need a new laptop in the first place, I’ll just say apology accepted.** I hit send, then started a new message. 

 

**I hope this means you’ll respect my request to leave me alone.** It was worth a try.

 

“Come on, Steve, let’s head back.” I restowed the phone and the faithful hound and I trotted back home. At London Bridge, my phone buzzed again. I glanced at it. 

 

**Perhaps. - L.** “Oh great,” I muttered, and sped up. Nothing like a quick sprint to drive all thoughts of impending doom from one’s head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is on the short side, but the next chapter should be longer - It turns out Tessa likes to ballroom dance...


	5. Baby, Let's Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all - Loki dances...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter (It's been one of my favorites to write so far...) 
> 
> Also, thanks go as always to my awesome beta and to you wonderful readers, kudos leavers, and commenters!

“Want to dance?” It was Tim, one of my friends from the ballroom club. “I want to try the waltz from Sunday.” 

“Sure,” I said, taking his outstretched hand. Tim was one of my favourite people to dance with. A few inches taller than I was, he didn’t pull me around, or treat me like an object that might or might not be engaged in the same activity, like some of the beginners did. He actually danced with me - a partnership of sorts. We got into hold, right hip to right hip, our elbows stretching out to either side, my left hand resting neatly on the divot between Tim’s bicep and tricep, my right hand holding his. 

He counted off, and we moved, through a full natural turn, a change step, a reverse turn, and a whisk, where he stopped. I was in front of him. Not correct. I should have been behind him. “Oops,” I said, smiling at him. “Again?”

“Yup.” We walked back to the far side of the room and tried again, neatly avoiding a couple trying out their quickstep competition routine. This time the whisk worked better. 

“One more time?” Tim asked. 

“Sounds good,” I replied, and we walked to the front of the room again. This time was the best of the three, the steps flowing from one to the next, exactly as ballroom dance should. I was grinning from ear to ear as I turned to face Tim. “I think that worked,” I told him. He smiled back.

“Me too.” He glanced over to the entryway - his partner had just come in. Tim was advanced enough that he used the beginner’s class as practice space. I wasn’t that good, I liked dancing with the beginners, and I didn’t have a partner, so I mostly just did the class. “Talk later?”

“Sure.” He wandered over to Sarah, and I went to the side of the room, avoiding another couple trying to fit in a few minutes of waltz before class got started. 

“Hey,” Marina said, coming over. “You and Tim looked good.”

“Thanks,” Marina and I had been friends since I’d started coming to the University of London ballroom club, while I’d still been at uni. “I like dancing with him.”

She waggled an eyebrow. Much as I liked Marina, she was always trying to get me a partner. Or a boyfriend. Or both. Not that I would have minded either. Or both. But somehow, there were always issues. Like the fact that Tim already had a partner. And a girlfriend. We watched the couples spin around the floor - I was always early to class, and the more advanced dancers used the preceding hour to practice, so I watched them, looking for tips. Which is why I was concentrating on the quickstepping couple and not the door.

“Tessa?” Marina asked. “Tessa, you have to see this.” She grabbed my arm, and I looked at her, then in the direction of her gaze. There, handing over a bill, was Loki. Oh crap. Loki was smiling at Lee, the girl in charge of dues today, and she wasn’t running away in terror, so he wasn’t going to immediately begin causing mischief. Apparently shock and horror weren’t the expressions Marina had been expecting. “Tessa? Do you know him?”

I shook my head, trying to clear it. For a moment there, I’d seen him as Marina must have, as I had before the Incident of Norse Gods Past. I’d simply seen his height, that smile, those eyes twinkling at Lee, and I hadn’t been able to think. Well, I had. I’d thought about what it would be like to kiss those lips, to run my hands over him, to have his hands running over me. Not smart. “Um…” I didn’t know what to say. “Yeah, I know him.” I could tell Marina wanted to ask more, but she didn’t. I looked up and saw why, for once blessing Loki’s approach. He could tell her who he was himself. 

“Tessa Michaelson,” he said in greeting, giving me a little bow. It should have seemed strange, but it wasn’t. I nodded in turn, not sure how to reply. What name did he want me to use? That would have to be his problem. As if it had been his plan all along, he turned smoothly to Marina. “We haven’t been introduced, I’m afraid.” Marina was practically a puddle of goo in front of him, I could tell. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he continued. “I am Loki Sturlusson.” I tried to laugh and snort all at the same time, and ended up coughing. Snorri Sturlusson was the person responsible, many centuries ago, for the Younger Edda, one of the main sources for Norse mythology. So I’d googled Loki. So what? One hand went to the middle of my back, one arm grabbed for my hand. I shook my head at the pair of them.

“I’m.. Good. I’m good.” I managed to croak.  “Loki, this is Marina. Marina, Loki. Introductions done now?” Marina held out her hand for Loki to shake, and Loki, of course, kissed the proffered hand instead. If she hadn’t already been half in love with the guy, she was now. I was a bit jealous. No hand-kissing for me. Just laptop burning, laptop replacing, and insults. 

“Loki Sturlusson,” Marina said slowly. “Unusual name. Where are you from?” I looked to Loki, interested to see what his answer would be. 

“Norway,” he said. 

“You don’t have an accent,” she commented.

He smiled crookedly and answered. “I had the good fortune of excellent teachers.” I wanted to roll my eyes. He sounded like something from a fairy tale. Or Shakespeare. ‘Doth mother know you wearest her drapes’ indeed. 

On the floor, our teacher Emma clapped her hands, calling our class to order. The advanced couples migrated to the edges of the floor, and Marina, Loki, and I moved to the centre. Loki stepped close to me.

“Tessa, might I have the honour of dancing with you tonight?” I looked at him. Was it me, or did he look a little unsure as he asked the question? It must just be me. 

I considered. I did want Loki to leave me alone. I wanted to take the laptop he’d given me - given the clear by Anton - and run, to stay in my safe little world without magic, without adventures. Normal life was an adventure enough for me. But he clearly wasn’t inclined to ignore me. He’d kept texting me, a few times a week, funny comments or a picture of a prank he’d played on someone. And I’d noticed him following me around - in the background at one of my coffee shops I used to write, stopping by the bookstore to pick up Harry Potter - all seven books and eight movies, paid for with a super-fancy black card. So if he wasn’t going to leave me alone, what options did I really have? 

All of this flashed through my mind as I looked at him, trying to decipher his expression. But more than anything, I thought one thing: I really wanted to know what it would be like to dance with Loki. Just once. And so, with that thoroughly juvenile thought, I made my decision. If he could have fun, so would I. “Yes.” 

Loki smiled, and I felt myself smile in return. Damn my involuntary reactions. But how were you supposed to not smile when someone smiled at you like that? Loki looked like a five-year-old who had just opened a present at Christmas. It was adorable. 

“All right, everyone,” Emma said, as we formed a circle around her. She looked at me, then at Loki, then raised an eyebrow. I winked. Let Emma think what she wanted - this was a one-time deal, and I could explain it later. “Today we’re doing waltz,” she continued, and took us through the most basic version of the steps - the box step. 

As I always did, I added the more advanced things, trying to work on my technique as much as possible. I used the appropriate toes and heels, I rose on my toes and bent my knees accordingly, and, of course, my box was bigger than most people’s. I glanced at Loki. He was coping, looking down at his feet. I suppressed a giggle. Apparently Loki didn’t know how to ballroom dance. I’d always assumed he must know - Asgard must be filled with balls and such. But that was silly - I was sure the dances were different. Loki looked up and caught me watching him. I smiled as encouragingly as I could. He grinned back. 

Finally we separated into leaders and followers - men and women being politically and actually incorrect, as there were a few couples that were all-female. I stood near the front, Loki opposite me. It was sweet, watching him learn. His sly smile had disappeared, replaced with a concentrated expression, complete with slightly furrowed brow. He wouldn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of all these people. All the snark I’d seen melted away as he danced. 

After Emma had gone over the follower’s steps, we paired up. I went into a modified ballroom hold - still stretching, still keeping my head to the left, but keeping myself farther away from Loki - the potential for stepping on each other’s toes was too great for my liking, so I tried for a practice hold instead. Loki tried to pull me closer. I pushed away, firmly, whispering in his ear. “Let’s try this way first,” I said, putting about six inches of space between us where two seconds ago there had been none. I was glad we were whispering - if my voice was a little breathier than usual, it wasn’t as noticeable. “You haven’t danced waltz before, have you?”

He chuckled, voice puffing in my ear. “No. ”

“Well, then.” I smiled. “Let’s try not to step on each other’s feet, shall we?” Emma came around, making sure we were all in some semblance of proper hold, then counted us off. 

It wasn’t perfect. I was somehow absurdly comforted by the fact that Loki needed time to learn new things, just like a normal person. He started on the wrong foot. He overthought and lost his place in the sequence of steps. But the thing that struck me most was that he had to have danced before. He _danced_ with me. He didn’t try and force me in one direction or the other, which was counterproductive anyway, or pretend that we were in parallel lanes of some dance machine. He simply danced with enough conviction that soon we were almost crashing into people with each repetition. (My general rule of thumb for dancers - the farther they move, the better they are). 

I was grinning from ear to ear. This was such fun, dancing with Loki. I could do it all night. I felt like Cinderella, like Eliza Doolittle. It was absurd and wonderful. 

“Change partners, and we’ll try again,” Emma said, and we looked at each other. I was almost dizzy, looking at him from this close - we were still in practice hold, faces barely six inches apart when I turned my head. 

“Do you wish to change your partner?” Loki asked. I felt like he was trying to trap me. Never mind - I knew my answer anyway.

“Nope,” I said, unable to entirely mask my smile. “Do you?” I asked the question almost pro forma, but realised I really didn’t want him to. I was having too much fun.

He looked at me for a second, then shook his head, smiling slightly. I was going to have to watch out - a few more of those soft smiles and I’d forget he’d destroyed my laptop entirely. “I asked for your hand for the entire evening, Miss Michaelson. I have no intention of asking for another’s.” How could I not blush at that? I felt my face grow red, and marshalled my thoughts once more. 

“Loki?” I asked, as Emma got us into order again. 

“Yes?”

“Want to learn real ballroom hold?” I figured he was ready for it - he knew the steps, and we were due for a few more repetitions before we moved on to the long side of the room. Besides, my spin turn in the corner would be easier if we were in real hold. 

“We are not already in real ballroom hold?” he asked.

“Sort of.” I grinned. “Most of us are in beginner’s ballroom hold - basically something that’s about right and prevents bodily injury. You and I are in something closer to practice hold. But real ballroom hold” - I glanced around the room, rotating my head as far as I could - he still had a hand on my shoulder blade and my right hand in his. “Real ballroom hold is them,” I said, pointing to one of the couples practicing behind Loki’s left shoulder. He turned and spotted them, Joey and Nicole, still practicing their waltz. 

“I see.” Loki turned back to me and actually squared his shoulders. “Teach me, please.”

I’d gotten a please. I wasn’t sure how shocked I should be. I settled for very. Very shocked indeed. But I moved on, not thinking that in a few minutes, I would be in somewhat intimate proximity to the Norse god. “Ok. So first you need to stretch your elbows out to the side.” He did, and his shoulders rose to his ears. “Shoulders down,” I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed, and he relaxed them. “Now your left hand goes where it’s always gone, right on top of my shoulder blade,” I said, reaching for his right hand and moving myself into position, “and we should touch hip to hip,” I finished, as we, indeed, touched right hip to right hip, resting my left hand on his arm. It was the most odd feeling, as usual, being in ballroom hold with someone for the first time. It was simultaneously intimate and clinical, trying to hold such an unnatural position right next to someone else. I could feel his hip on mine, my hand in his, his hand on my shoulder blade. 

“Oh,” I said, not looking at him - best and worst thing about ballroom hold - you couldn’t look at your partner. “And don’t look at me while we’re dancing.”

Loki took his hand out of mine and actually put a hand under my chin to turn it to face him. “Whyever not?” We were perilously close now, noses scant inches from one another. 

“Head weight,” I said as coherently as possible, a bit impressed with how clearly it came out. “We can’t turn like this unless you look straight ahead and slightly to your left, and I do my ridiculous contortion.” His hand wasn’t holding my chin too tightly, so I turned my head once again. We’d been left behind by the rest of the class, who were already halfway through the routine we’d been learning. I took a breath. “Want to try?”

I felt as well as heard his chuckle. “Of course.” And we danced. I was grateful for the space we now had, because once we were in proper hold, Loki could lead properly, and we moved along a far greater distance than we had previously. 

It was as if we’d been dancing together for years, that first few bars of waltz. Modern ballroom dance wasn’t so much about leading and following as it once had been, and I felt completely at ease with Loki - he gave just enough lead so I knew what he was doing, and no more. Of course, he still had barely any rise and fall and no swing and sway to speak of, but it was his first time waltzing. ‘What I could do with him and a few weeks worth of lessons,’ I thought, then stopped myself. This was a one-time thing. One evening. 

One evening of dancing with what could be my perfect dance partner, then that would be it. I’d resolved it before I’d even begun, and I knew it was the right decision, even now in his arms. But now I regretted the fact.

Something must have shown on my face as we stopped - there was no talking in ballroom hold - it was too hard to not look at your partner. “Is there a problem?” Loki asked, right hand still in mine as we walked back across the dance floor to try the steps again. The hand-holding wasn’t unusual, but it certainly felt that way as we took the final few steps. I looked down.

“No,” I said, making myself smile back up at him. “No problem.” He looked unconvinced. “Promise.” He looked somewhat mollified, and pulled me into hold again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought the dancing was over? Wrong.
> 
> Up next, cha cha. There will be hips involved. And apparently they do not lie...


	6. Give Him the Oo-La-La

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tessa cha cha cha...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I struggled writing and posting this chapter, but it's finally here. I hope you like it!

“So you require different shoes for this?” Loki asked as I bent over to adjust my Latin shoes’ straps. He was leaning against the wall next to me as I changed shoes. 

“Yup,” I replied, yanking on the leather strap to tighten the shoe around my ankle. “Different style of dance, different shoes.”

“Some things do not change between realms.” Loki sighed. “Women and their shoes.”

I snorted, gesturing to his own well-soled feet before standing. “And you don’t care about what’s on your feet at all.” I smoothed my hands on my skirt. “You’re sure you want to stay for this?” I asked the question as much for me as for him - our Latin dance for the evening was cha cha, normally a dance I loved, fast and frenetic, but with Loki - and hips? The mind boggled. “Latin’s a lot different than ballroom.”

“If you continue to dance, I shall as well.” His eyes were level as he said it, daring me to argue.

“All right then,” I said, a bit dubiously. This was either going to be terrible or wonderful - there was no in between. We walked back into the centre of the room, to the front row of people. Emma was still talking to a few people about the prior class, so I closed my eyes briefly, psyching myself up.  I wasn’t going to get my usual five minutes to assure myself I didn’t in fact look like an idiot and make sure my hips were moving properly, not with Loki here. 

I’d wanted to dance properly from the word go, so I’d better warm up. I opened my eyes as I put my fingers on my hip bones. Standing with my feet together, I bent first one knee, then the other, my hands making sure my hips were doing the appropriate figure of eight motion.

“Tessa!” I glanced at him. Loki wasn’t looking at my face. Then his eyes lifted to mine, surprised. Had I offended the Asgardian? Too damn bad. Although maybe, I thought, looking closer, he wasn’t offended after all. That certainly did look like a bit of extra colour on his cheekbones. Hmmmm.

“Told you Latin was different,” I said, switching directions in my figure of eight. I realised I was very close to actually flirting with the god, so I stopped what I was doing and turned to face him. “Hip action is one of the main differences between Latin and ballroom dancing.” I told him, slipping back into teacher mode. “Along with straight knees, no close hold, and a few other things.”

“So,” Emma said over the end of my sentence. “Cha cha.” I stopped my lecture. Emma could explain it better than I could anyway. She took us through the basics, starting with stomping the chacha rhythm. I kept the hip action, even though Loki took one look at me then kept his eyes firmly in front of him. I’d worked hard to get it right - no way on Earth was I dancing badly just to soothe some guy’s sensibilities.

I glanced over at Loki. He was stamping along next to me, keeping the rhythm almost automatically. I looked him up and down, taking advantage of his fixed gaze and my experience, trusting my feet to do the right thing. Trim torso in, of course, a green sweater. Exceptionally well-fitting dark slacks - mmm, that ass. Delightful. 

Delightful? I caught myself and tore my gaze away from Loki’s backside and faced front myself. I could feel the blush begin on my cheeks and thanked whichever weather god listening that it was sweltering in the room. 

“Tessa?” Emma said, distracting me from my train of thought.

“Yes?” I went over.

“You remember the routine from last week, don’t you?” she asked.

I nodded. “Mostly.”

“Good. You’re helping me demonstrate today.” I glanced back at the crowd of people. There were definitely more people here than usual. Then I glanced at Loki. “Hope you don’t mind, m’dear,” Emma told him. “I need her help for a bit. She’ll be back before you know it.”

He nodded, unsmiling. “Of course.” There wasn’t anything he could have said anyway, without being rude. And he did seem to want to be polite tonight.

“Now,” Emma said, loudly enough that everyone could hear her. “Leaders, follow me. Followers, follow Tessa. Not that it matters for this first bit anyway.” We went through the routine Emma had started us on the previous week, a side-by-side affair with a ronde, cuban breaks, and other fun things. I focused as best as I could on the dance, trying not to make too many mistakes and acutely aware of Loki behind me.

After the sixth repetition, I looked over at Emma - I needed a drink. My usual in-between class routine had been somewhat disrupted this evening, and I was parched. I mimed taking a drink and she nodded, waving me off the floor with a smile. 

“Having fun?” Marina asked as I was fishing my water bottle out of my bag. She had that grin - the one that a cat makes when faced with a dish of cream.

“Yup.” I said it as casually as I could, unscrewing the cap and tilting the bottle to take a drink. Loki was dancing with a new girl, someone I didn’t recognise. She was pretty, with long black hair that reached down to her tiny waist. She was clearly a beginner, in stark contrast to Loki’s - I almost choked on my water. The man was actually moving his hips. And it didn’t look ridiculous either. It looked… good. It looked, sinful, actually, what he was doing. How the hell did he manage that? I tried to look at something, at anything else, but I couldn’t stop staring.

“Oh my,” Marina said to me. “You lucky lucky girl.” I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I could scarcely agree with her, as my libido was screaming for me to do, sending a warm fire through abdomen. It didn’t matter though, that I said nothing, because Marina went on. “Those hips,” she murmured. “Hips like those? They do not lie.” I was about to take another drink when  she grabbed the water bottle out of my hand.

“Marina?”

“Go get him, girlie,” she told me, grinning that same grin, pushing me back onto the floor. I practically tripped getting back to my spot at the front, where Emma had pulled some poor lad out of the milieu and was dancing with him. She grinned at me too. Was everyone conspiring against me tonight? 

“Grab your partner,” she told me. “I’ll be fine out here.” I sighed and did as I was told, walking up to Loki and the girl, tapping her on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I need my partner back now,” I said. I had meant it to come out nicely, I really had, but my tone had a bit too much possessiveness for my peace of mind. “You could go and dance with him, if you like,” I continued, motioning to the chap Emma had been dancing with and who Emma was currently pointing in our direction.

“Ok,” the girl said, and didn’t give me a death glare as she went. I counted it a success and looked at Loki.

“All right if I dance with you again?” I asked as lightly as I could, holding out my left hand. He was looking at me with some expression I couldn’t quite name.

“Naturally,” he said, and grinned at me, taking my left hand, not in his right, as I was expecting, but in his left, putting his right hand on my right shoulder. I swallowed, hard. This was more, intimate, than I had been expecting. 

“Five, six, seven, eight,” Emma counted off just then, not giving me time to process Loki’s nearness properly. My feet started moving automatically, three forward locks, starting with the right foot. Loki kept right up with me, his body close enough to mine that I could feel the warmth radiating from him -and weren’t Frost Giants supposed to be cold anyway? 

I could have sworn I was losing my mind as we danced, losing all capacity for anything but the dance as we continued. Loki was a fast learner - I had to give him credit, he moved at my pace, keeping that same maddening distance constant. I wanted to run away, to tear my hand from his and get to the other side of the room. I wanted to close the distance between us entirely, to stop my skin from humming, to stop my almost superhuman awareness of where he was, of where our bodies touched, of how we were moving in tandem. What would it be like, I suddenly wondered, to kiss him, to tangle my fingers in his hair, to explore the muscles in his back? I knew they had to be there.

Then I turned to face him, and he turned me, once under his arm. And again in the other direction. Then a New York. And another. Normally I avoided my partner’s eyes as we danced face-to-face. The constant eye contact was unnerving, to say the least. But Loki’s eyes held mine as we moved, and I had no urge to turn away. I just looked straight back at him, smile playing unconsciously around my lips. 

The routine ended and we stopped, still facing each other, still staring into each other’s eyes. It was magic.

Magic.

Suddenly I found I could tear my eyes away from his. What if that hadn’t been hormones? What if that had been magic? Loki’s magic? Was it possible? His hand was still in mine, somehow grounding me, and I wasn’t sure if I trusted that. I looked back at his face, the entire deliberation having taken only a few seconds. 

“That was…” he started, then stopped.

“That was something,” I said in a rush. 

“Indeed.” And there was that crooked grin that was quickly becoming one of my favourites. I swallowed hard, again, and this time he noticed. “Problems?” He laid a hand on my forehead. “You’re a bit warm.”

“It’s the room,” I said quickly. “I’m fine, Loki.” I forced a smile, and it grew of its own accord. Yes, the feelings were maddening and probably fake. But they were wonderful all the same. For tonight, I could imagine that Loki actually fancied me.

“And again,” Emma called. I raised an eyebrow at Loki, and we moved back to our initial positions.

 

 

 

 

“See you Sunday!” I called after Marina. She was heading north, I south for the evening. 

“Bye!” she called back, already almost at the corner. I could tell she was still waggling her eyebrows at me, and I shook a fist. She just laughed.

“You two have an interesting relationship,” Loki commented. He’d declared his intention, at the end of class, to escort me as far as the Tube station. Our journeys diverged there - he took the Piccadilly line south, I north. I’d told him it wasn’t necessary, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. We were both in our overcoats again, but we had them open - we were both too hot to do up the buttons. 

We walked in silence, the only sound between us our feet on the flagstones, all the way to the station. We went through the turnstiles in silence, waited for the lift in silence. It was late enough that we didn’t have to cram into the lift, although I did think that being pressed up against Loki wasn’t the worst thing in the world. After all, I thought with a small smile, I could tell you that from personal experience now. 

Loki must have seen it, because he broke the silence. “What are you smiling about?” he asked. 

I turned to look up at him. I felt like a shrimp, three inches shorter now in my flats instead of heels. “I just had fun, this evening,” I said, and turned back as the lift doors opened. That was inoffensive enough, right?

We walked out of the lift, to where our paths differed. “I had a very nice time as well, Tessa,” Loki said, softly. “I find I have things I would like to discuss with you. Would you consent to another meeting?”

I didn’t say anything for a minute. “Are you going to follow me anyway, if I say no?” I asked, even more softly. I didn’t want to ask it. I didn’t want to break the moment, to get back to real life, but I had to. I had to know the answer.

Loki sighed, and I looked up to check his expression. It wasn’t angry, to my surprise, just, frustrated, and thoughtful. “The fact that my answer is yes is one of the things I would like to talk about,” he said, finally. “There is an explanation.” He pushed back his hair with an absent hand. “You should know that I am usually not this, ungentlemanly, with a lady.”

“I’m hardly a lady.” The sentence was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“You are wrong,” Loki said, and took one of my hands. He brought it to his mouth and kissed it, lips barely scooting over my knuckles. There was the frost I had looked for earlier. Where his lips had touched was suddenly sparkling as if I’d stuck my hand in snow. He let my hand go. “My question remains.”

The wind from a passing train ruffled his hair and both of our coats. I should go. It was late and I was tired. And I didn’t want to meet with Loki sometime out of the blue. If I was going to talk with him, I might as well have some time to prepare. “All right,” I said. “Give me a day or two?” He nodded.

“I did very much enjoy dancing with you, Tessa Michaelson,” Loki said as I turned to leave. 

“And I with you, Loki Sturlusson,” I replied, not able to stop myself from grinning at the last name. Loki took one step, two, then kissed my cheek.

“I will contact you,” he promised. “Travel safely.” He spun and walked away coat blowing to one side in the gale-force wind of the tunnel. I turned again and went down the steps, burning cold hand pressed to burning cold cheek. So much to think about. So much to consider.

So very much to tell Ginny when I got home.


	7. A Fool There Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning, and Tessa doesn't quite know what to think about the previous evening. Everything seems so different in the light of day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter!  
> Thanks to everyone who reads this - kudos and comments make me write faster, and are honestly the best parts of my day!!!
> 
> You are all awesome and deserve puppies and kittens!

Ginny was dancing around the flat as I dragged myself out of bed the next morning. Fred Astaire was singing something about the Ritz as Ginny turned and spun. It was too much, before coffee, and I felt like I had a hangover, even though I hadn’t had anything to drink last night.

My head was fuzzy, my eyes barely slitted open, and the few glimpses I’d seen of myself assured me that my hair looked like nothing so much as a bird’s nest. A rejected bird’s nest. My hands, of their own accord, took down a mug and poured the already-made coffee in, then added milk. I blew on the liquid, then took my first sip. Heaven. My head slowly started to clear as I continued to sip the almost-too-hot beverage. I’d taken the Tube home from ballroom last night, from ballroom and Loki, and collapsed into bed as soon as I possibly could. 

“Hi sleepy-head,” Ginny carolled as I made my way back into our living room and sitting on the couch, coffee still clutched close to me as if it were the Holy Grail. Which it might possibly have been. 

“Hi,” I mumbled, and Ginny collapsed onto the couch next to me. “You’re chipper,” I said, accusingly.

“Well, if you get up at 2am, 8 seems like the middle of the afternoon,” she said cheerfully. I was a notorious grouch in the morning. Ginny and Anton dealt with it by ignoring it, for the most part. “We didn’t hear you come in last night,” Ginny continued. “Anything interesting happen?”

Fred Astaire continued to sing in the background as I just looked at my coffee. “You might say that,” I said, finally. I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. Had any of it been real? 

“Hang on.” Ginny vaulted over the back of the sofa. I continued to drink my coffee, feeling my brain whir into action with every addition of caffeine. “Take these.” Ginny was back, holding a plate of something. I grabbed the plate, which turned out to have freshly-made pastries on it. She came with the coffee pot, and refilled my mug.

“Ginny, you are an angel,” I told her, reaching for one of the danishes. 

“I know,” she said smugly. “Anton tells me regularly.”

“If you two get any sweeter, I may have to murder you in my sleep,” I said, but there was no real heat in it. I was delighted my two roommates were happy together. “Now,” Ginny said, reaching over and snagging a pastry for herself. “What happened last night?”

I took another sip of coffee. “Loki.” My voice was bitter. “Loki happened. Of course.”

“What did he do?”

“He showed up at class. He danced with me. It was great, it was lovely, I felt like a fairy princess. He walked me to the Tube. But I think he was screwing with me the whole time.” It was the conclusion I had come to, on the Tube, walking home. Whatever I had felt, whatever I had thought he’d felt - it was most likely Loki trying to get on my good side, for whatever reason. “He probably just wanted to toy with me. Toy with the Midgardian.” I took another swig of coffee. If a person could be said to drink coffee bitterly, I drank it bitterly. Damn him. “I knew, when I said yes, that it was only for the night. I knew. But then he has to go and be the perfect freaking gentleman, and I don’t think he meant a single word.” I took another bite of Danish. It was delicious, as always.

“Why don’t you think he meant any of it? And what did he do, exactly?” Ginny sounded a bit confused. Fair enough - I wasn’t being very coherent. So I went through the evening, trying to be as honest and impartial as I could be. Ginny laughed when I told her about ogling Loki with Marina, and I had to chuckle too.

“Who’s looking at whose ass?” Anton asked, opening the front door. He took off his jacket and came and joined us, sitting on the arm of the sofa nearest to Ginny.

“Oh, Tessa’s having Loki issues again.” Ginny told him, leaning up for a kiss. I had to look away. They were so perfect together, it hurt sometimes. Ginny filled Anton in, quickly, and Steve came to sit on the couch next to me. 

“Hi bud,” I told the dog. “How was your walk?” I put down my coffee cup, wary of spilling the entire thing on myself and the couch with the dog practically on my lap, and set about petting the living heck out of my puppy. 

I continued my story once Anton was caught up, petting the dog as I described our final walk together to the Tube, the request for a meeting, the kiss to my cheek.

“So,” Anton said as I was scratching Steve under the chin and telling him he was the cutest dog in existence. 

“So?” I asked. 

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” Anton said. “What’s the problem?”

“I just don’t know if any of it’s real!” I realised tears were about to spring to my eyes, so I took a breath. One thing I definitely wasn’t going to do was cry over Loki. Never. “I mean, he could have meant precisely none of what he said last night, and I was still in a tizzy. And why me?” I knew myself. Objectively, I was ok. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn’t pretty. My most defining characteristic was my red hair, which I supposed was special enough, but not really cause for a relationship. And I was prickly, to say the least. Most people seemed happy enough to keep me at a distance. 

“Why not you?” Anton asked it, not Ginny. I looked up at him, still petting Steve.

“What?”

“Why shouldn’t he be interested in you?” He ticked points off of his fingers. “You’re smart, you’re pretty,” Ginny nodded, “And you’re funny. And besides, you stood up to the guy. That has to be fairly unusual, right? Assuming he’s a prince.”

I wasn’t convinced. At all. But I nodded, like I was supposed to do. “Fine.”

“Tessa,” Ginny said, leaning over to put a hand on my arm. “It might be fake, you’re right. He might just be playing with you because he’s bored, or because he thinks it’s funny, or a half-dozen other reasons.” She looked back at Anton, face softening. “But he might not be. It might be real for him too.” She looked back at me and grinned. “And we all know no mortal man is good enough for our Tessa.”

“Get out!” I said, laughing. My heart still felt heavy as I chuckled. I thought back over the previous evening. I thought about everything Loki had said, searching for alternate meanings, alternate angles. Everything he’d done, and said, looking it at it now in the dispassionate light of the day, seemed stilted, awkward, and insincere. I must have read more into his expressions than had been there. Everything he’d said was purely polite, and I couldn’t even fathom, sitting here now, that Loki was even remotely interested in me romantically. After all, people that handsome didn’t look at me like that. It’d be like an Arabian racehorse dating a Shetland pony. Ridiculous.

Which left the question of why he was interested in me in the first place. I still though the most likely outcome was that Loki was trying, for some reason or other, to mess with me. 

 

…………………………….

 

 

A few hours later, and I was finally writing again, getting some work done at last. I had a blog post to write, a commission for some blurb or other to finish, and I wanted to get further with this novel I was working on. 

Ginny was snoozing on the couch and Anton was watching sports - apparently, he had the day off. I shrugged. I never knew what to expect from Anton’s work. Sometimes he’d vanish for a week at a time, then he’d be home for a few days, then he’d resume normal hours. It was just best to ask Ginny - she was the only one who could keep track of him. In any event, I’d retreated to my bedroom, coffee in hand and was sitting at my desk, typing away on my laptop.

I hadn’t thought of it as my _new_ laptop in a few days - it was so similar to my baby that it had seamlessly adapted itself into my life. Not like the person who had given it to me. Loki.

I looked at my phone, the unopened text message taunting me. I couldn’t deal with it right now - I refused to. I wanted to get some work done, to get back to my real life for a few hours before Loki messed with my brain again. Despite everything Pepper and Anton had said - and wasn’t it just typical of a man to defend the man in the situation? I knew I was being unfair to Anton, that he was my friend first, but the whole thing with Loki seemed to push every single one of my buttons. If I could, I’d forget I’d ever met him. I’d decided he was using magic, that what I’d felt, whatever the hell that was, was fake, and that he’d been acting.

It was the most logical explanation. And if a small part of my brain protested, I shoved it down. I wouldn’t get anywhere by acting like a love-sick puppy. That was Steve’s job. With that thought, and realising I wouldn’t get any work done anyway until I opened the text, I picked up my phone.

**Good morning.** It read. **In reference to our discussion last night, I would like to invite you to lunch this Saturday at 1pm at the place of your choosing. Please let me know if you would like to change the time and where I should meet you. Yours, L.**

I stared at the text, almost grinning. Trust Loki to make a text sound like it should have come from a ribbon-wrapped scroll. The message was clinical, formal. I’d been right, after all, and the little part of me that had hoped against hope was suddenly crying out in pain. Oh well.

If he could be cold, I could as well. No use postponing my response. I didn’t have any plans this Saturday. I considered a moment, then started to type.

**Hello,** I wrote, **Saturday at 1pm will work for me. I propose we meet at Kipferl Cafe in Angel. Do you need me to send the address? T.**

Less than a minute later, I had a reply. He obviously had nothing to do today.

**Hello - No, I am capable of using Google, thank you. I will see you at the Kipferl Cafe at 1pm on Saturday. L.** A bit of snark mixed in with the formalities then. And it did seem like he wanted my confirmation that we were indeed meeting. I’d said I would. 

**See you then.** ‘Three days,’ I thought. ‘Three days of peace, and then we’ll see what Loki has to say for himself.’


	8. You Said It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch doesn't go as planned, for either party...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned before, this takes place after the events of the Avengers movie. Before Thor 2 or Captain America 2. Hope that helps...
> 
> Also, Kipferl Cafe is real, and their food is delicious. Loki belongs to Marvel. Tessa belongs to me...

 

 

If I walked out of Angel Tube station a little bit quicker than I would normally have done, I didn’t think about it. If I’d actually pondered what outfit to wear for at least an hour, even asking Ginny for her opinion, I didn’t think about that either. So I was nervous, quite nervous, and Ginny had insisted on treating this meeting with Loki as a date. So what? I wouldn’t let it phase me. 

My heels clacked on the uneven cobbles, and I fished my phone out of my jacket pocket to check the time. I was early, of course. I hadn’t wanted to be late, so I’d left plenty of time, and then not needed any of it. It was 12:40 now, and I was grateful I’d brought a book to read. I wandered down the narrow passage way and pushed open the glass door. 

I was greeted by the smell of baked goods, and the glass case filled with cakes and pastries seemed to beckon me closer.

“Can I help you?” the waitress asked.

I nodded. “I had a reservation, for 1pm? Under Michaelson? I know I’m early.” 

The lady smiled and led me to the back of the little shop. Our table was at the end of a row set against a bench. I slid into the corner as she passed me my menu. “Can I get you anything while you’re waiting?”

“A verlängerter, please?” I asked. It was an Austrian type of coffee, a bit stronger than your average latte, and my favourite here. Of course, I was sure my German was atrocious, but the woman just smiled and nodded, writing something down on her pad and disappearing.

I shrugged out of my coat and pulled my book out of my bag, trying to read. I failed. The familiar words - it was the first Jeeves and Wooster book, which I’d read countless times - didn’t pull me in as they usually did, and I gave up after only a few minutes, placing the book down neatly in front of me.

I traced the corners with an absent finger, gazing out towards the street. My thoughts were disjointed, half of one thought slipping into half of another. And my eyes searched the people outside. ‘What if he stands me up, after all this?’ I thought at 12:50, checking my phone. ‘Then you have a nice lunch anyway, and forget about all this,’ I told myself firmly. ‘Besides, you’re still early. It’s not even 1pm yet.’ I went back to my book, trying once again to lose myself in Bertie Wooster’s antics.

This time, I managed, laughing inwardly when Bertie managed to do something incredibly silly, again. There was something so incredibly English about these books, I mused, turning the page. Nothing quite compared.

I heard a familiar voice and jerked my head up, pulling something in my neck. Loki was at the front of the shop, talking to the waitress, who was pointing in my direction. He spotted me and flashed me a smile, moving towards me. I rubbed my neck, moving my head cautiously.

He noticed as he sat. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Just pulled something in my neck,” I replied, moving my head back and forth more vigorously now. I thought I’d stretched out the strain. His fingers shimmered green as they stretched forward, and I pulled back. “No!” I practically shouted it. Loki’s hands retreated, settling on the table again. “No more magic,” I said, more quietly. “I’m fine.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He picked up the menu and examined it. “So, Tessa,” he said, still reading. “How are you today, apart from the neck injury?”

Like he cared, nose buried so deep in the menu I could only see his eyebrows. “I’m fine, thank you,” I said. “And you?” the question came automatically, and I wasn’t a fan. I didn’t really care how he was doing today, I told myself firmly. Loki put down the menu.

“I am well as well,” he said, looking at me. Feeling awkward, I took a sip of my coffee, which had come while I had been waiting for him to arrive. It was delicious, and I enjoyed both the beverage and the quick respite from our conversation. When I put the cup down, Loki was still looking at me. “What is that?” he asked.

“A verlängerter,” I replied. “A coffee.” He picked up the menu again to the coffee section. 

“Aha.” He nodded. “Do you recommend it?”

I nodded. “I like it, but I don’t think you can go far wrong here. Everything’s good.”

The waitress came over, smiling at Loki. I was getting used to that - everyone’s constant fawning over Loki. He may not have looked like Tom Hiddleston, not exactly, but he was still very handsome in the same pale way. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said, and looked confused when the waitress and I both broke out in giggles.

“Reference to a movie,” I said, still laughing. “Look up ‘When Harry Met Sally’ sometime.”

He still looked a little confused, but nodded all the same. 

“Do you watch many movies?” he asked. 

I thought about it. “Not really,” I replied. “Not more than the average person, probably. I read more than I watch.”

“That’s the reason you work in a bookshop?”

“That’s the reason I write,” I returned. “I read so much when I was little that the stories in my head wouldn’t shut up, so I had to write them down, just to get some peace.”

Loki processed that. “That’s a lovely sentiment.”

“Thanks.” Then I had to ask. “So how did you enjoy Harry Potter? Have you finished it yet?”

I got another one of those smiles, the real ones that reached his eyes. “I did finish them. Books and films.”

“And?”

“They weren’t awful.” If I’d have been sitting next to him, I would have shoved him - he was obviously kidding as he said it, smile growing as he continued. “To tell the truth, I enjoyed them, even though the books were somewhat uneven. Harry’s story is compelling.” He made a face. “The films, however, left something to be desired.”

“The book is always better than the movie,” I replied, nodding. The waitress came back with Loki’s coffee, and we ordered.

“So how long have you been ballroom dancing?” Loki asked, taking a sip of coffee. He closed his eyes. “Mmm, this is good.”

Heat shot through my stomach, as I smiled. “A few years.” It was distressingly easy to talk to Loki. “I started while I was at uni, and I never stopped.”

“Why do you still take the beginner’s class, then? You’re obviously experienced enough to take a higher-level class.”

“I do take a higher-level class - on Sundays.” I shrugged. “But I do the beginner’s class because it’s fun. They don’t take it so seriously, so they fool around a little more. Besides,” another shrug. “I like the people and it does me good to not be alone so much.”

I hadn’t meant it to sound depressing, but Loki frowned anyway. Wonderful. Now he thought I was some kind of hermit. ‘Not that I care what he thinks anyway,’ I told myself firmly. “So,” I said, changing the subject. “You said you had something to tell me - you were going to explain?” 

Something flashed across Loki’s face, there and gone before I had a chance to really see what it was. “I did,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I thought we might share stories - you see, I believe you are the one that returned my magic to me, but I am still not clear how that occurred.” I opened my mouth to say something, but he kept right on talking. “I’m aware you don’t think you did anything.” His eyes went thoughtful. “However, if I tell you why I think my powers returned, I thought it might help you remember.”

I doubted it, but I nodded anyway.

“All right.” Loki steepled his fingers together. “Some of this you surely know already. I was raised by Odin and Frigga, rulers of Asgard. As their son, brother to Thor.” His smile twisted into something bitter. “Younger and lesser brother, but blood nonetheless.

“Then I discovered that I was not in truth Odin’s son at all. I had been taken, stolen, from Jotunheim as a baby, from my father Laufey, king of that accursed place, who had himself abandoned me.” Loki’s face grew even darker, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. His family had truly screwed him over. Loki was still talking. “But as I discovered the truth, Asgard had other problems. Thor, the idiot, had lead an assault on Jotunheim and had been banished by Odin, who had himself fallen into the Odinsleep, when I confronted him about my true parentage.” He looked at me instead of his interlaced fingers. “The Odinsleep is…”

I cut him off. “A kind of coma, I know. I’ve seen the Marvel movies.”

I thoughthe’d looked sardonic before, but his expression now was ten times worse. Sadder, angrier, all held together with a mask of humour.

“You’ve seen the Marvel movies, have you?” he repeated harshly, and I nodded. I don’t think I could have spoken just then, had I wanted to. My heart was tight in my chest and my hands were suddenly cold.“They are accurate, for the most part,” he said, and my stomach clenched. I’d been hoping they weren’t.

“So the battle of New York is real?” I asked, finding my voice. It almost hurt to ask the question. This line of questioning lead to nothing but pain. But I had to know.

“Yes.” His eyes were cold as they bored into mine. My mind started to spin, and that’s when the food arrived.

“Thank you,” I told the waitress by reflex, who took one look at us and disappeared without another word. I stared down at my plate, not really processing that there was food on it. 

Then my mouth started another one of its solo voyages without input from my brain. “And torturing Barton? And Selvig?” I swallowed, and continued. “Killing Coulson?” I practically whispered the last syllable, terrified what I might receive in response.

“Yes.” My mind blanked for a minute, and I automatically dropped my napkin into my lap and picked up my cutlery. A thought floated across my mind, almost lazily. I was dining with a mass-murderer. I was having lunch with a super-villain. 

Was I in shock? Was that why I wasn’t scared of the man across from me? I spoke again, determined to get the rest of the story before Loki stopped speaking entirely. “Why are you here? How did you get to my world?”

Loki, having mirrored my actions, put down his knife and fork. “Odin sent me.” He grimaced. “After…” He started again. “After Thor brought me home, after some of Father’s usual punishments, he came up with a new torture.” So our world was torture, was it? I thought. Thanks, Loki. He went on, not seeming to see me at all now, gazing at something behind my left shoulder. “I was banished to this - you would call it a parallel dimension, I believe - by the man who raised me, to live out my natural lifespan alone.”

I didn’t know what to say. Yes, the punishments usually attributed to Odin were really harsh. They’d be classified as torture in my world - he’d had Loki’s mouth _sewed shut_ , for heaven’s sake. But still - 80 people killed in 2 days. World domination. Working with Thanos. Barton. Coulson. Loki wasn’t innocent either. My mind spun, trying to reconcile the man who could do such awful things with the man who had danced with me so considerately just a few days ago. I couldn’t do it, much as I tried, and I continued to try, overlaying Coulson’s face, well, Clark Gregg’s face, who knew what Coulson looked like, exactly, contorted with pain, with Loki’s expression as we danced. 

“But,” he went on, looking at me again, clearly not knowing what was going on in my head. “But all hope is not lost. You see,” he said, reaching over and grabbing one of my hands in both of his. I froze. “You see, as I departed Asgard, Frigga, my mother, whispered something to me. ‘Do not lose hope,’ she told me. ‘There is a way out. You only need find it.’” He smiled at me, more manic than friendly, and I finally saw the Loki from the movies across from me. “Tessa, when I arrived here, I had no magic. I spent two months in agony with no power, with one of my senses missing. Then I met you, and suddenly my power returned.” His hands tightened around mine. “I think you’re the key, Tessa Michaelson.”

“The key to what?” I said, pulling my hand from his. His grip had started to crush my hand, and I felt the beginnings of anger. Hurting me was so not ok.

“The key to my return to Asgard.” His green eyes sparkled. “Even Odin will not dare oppose my return if Frigga permits it.”

“And then what?” My brain had reset, somehow. All the maelstrom of emotion, of confusion, was suddenly gone and I was in safe mode. It had been too much, anyway, all of those feelings like a maelstrom in my brain. The trying to deal with the fact that the man I might possibly, in another world, have had feelings for, the man I’d had such fun dancing with, was a killer, a villain. A murderer. It was all too much, so my brain ignored it.

Now I could behave rationally, ask the correct questions, without emotions getting in the way. “What happens when you get back to Asgard? Do you try and take over Earth again? Or do you dry for Asgard this time? I haven’t heard anything yet that even remotely persuades me I should help you, assuming I can.”

Loki’s jaw dropped, then he closed it. “What about my first action towards you?” he asked it softly, the man I’d known previously resurfacing, but my brain didn’t care anymore, not in safe mode. All I was concerned with was my own safety.

“What about it?” My voice was cold, and I wondered whether he noticed.

“I saved your laptop from a thief.”

“And then you destroyed it.”

“You doubted me!”

“Who wouldn’t?!” I asked, and realised we were practically shouting at each other. Not doing so well at controlling my emotions, there. I took a deep breath and continued. “You told me you were a fictional character, Loki. A god. We don’t have those things here.”

“Neither do you adequate protection,” Loki said, the non sequitur confusing me. “That thief should be the least of your worries. You do realise there has been a man following you for the past few weeks?”

So he was messing with me. Had been messing with me the whole time. “Yes,” I shot back. “You.”

“Not me,” he seethed. “I do not know him.”

“Liar.” As if I’d believe that.

“I do not lie, Tessa Michaelson. Not to you.” It was his turn to sigh. “I do not know what to think of your father, Tessa, if he is so willing to leave you so vulnerable.”

My blood boiled, then froze.

“My father is dead.” I opened my wallet and pulled out money, hoping it was enough to cover my meal. I was too upset to look clearly. “And our association is over, Loki Odinson.” I saw his eyebrows jump together at the mention of his father’s name. Direct hit. “You can rot here, for all I care.” I grabbed my coat and practically ran out the door, somehow managing not to hit anyone in my haste, teeth buried in my lower lip to keep me from crying.

 

 


	9. Announcement of Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa is overwhelmed...

How I managed to get back to the flat without breaking down, I had no idea. I’d gone even more numb than I had been while I was talking with _him_ , eyes glazed with tears as I walked, stopped, and waited appropriately.

Then I was in the flat, door closed behind me, and the world spun back up to normal speed again. The tears fell from my eyes and I leaned against the wall, sliding down it until I was sat on the floor, head buried between my crossed arms, sobbing.

I cried until I had no more tears left, until my head was screaming and my eyes were burning. Even then I stayed where I was, sitting in the front hallway, trying my best not to think. Eventually, though, Steve noticed my appearance, and snuffled his way into my little cocoon. 

“Hi, bud,” I said, voice a little raw. “Did I wake you up?” A wet nose pressed against my chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” With a groan, I stood up, and Steve followed me into the bathroom, where I splashed some water onto my face. I wasn’t sure why I did it - there certainly wasn’t a noticeable difference between my pre- and post- water face. I was still red, and blotchy. My eyes were still bloodshot. But I felt better, which I supposed was the important thing.

On my way out of the bathroom, I grabbed a few paracetamol - my headache wasn’t going to go away on its own - dry swallowed, then headed to my bedroom. Steve followed, and I gave him a quick scratch for his troubles, even managing a small smile. Something about animals made them far superior to humans, I thought. It was probably their inability to talk. 

I pulled out my jewellery box from below my desk and opened the bottom drawer, where I kept my really special things. I brushed past the few pairs of earrings my grandma had left me when she passed a few years ago, past the pearls I’d received for my fifteenth birthday, and down to the bottom. Somehow the damn things always ended up at the bottom of the drawer.

“Gotcha!” I told the dog tags, as my fingers grasped the familiar shape. I pulled them out, gingerly, trying not to tangle them or anything else too badly. I smoothed my thumbs over the now-faded writing, not needing to read what was written on it. I knew what it would say.

My father’s blood type - A. My father’s service number. His surname - Michaelson. His initials - HR, for Henry Roy. An M for Male. I slipped them over my neck then shed the dress I had been wearing in favour of my running gear. At first, when Dad had first died, I wore them every day. I still pulled them out now and again, but it wasn’t the compulsion it once had been. Maybe that would change now.

“Yup, you get to come,” I told Steve as soon as he realised what was going on, which was when I reached for my shoes. “How could I go running without my faithful hound?” I ruffled the dog’s ears, and had to fight back tears again. I was surprised by how quickly the grief had come back this time, like a sucker punch to the gut. I felt like I was twelve years old again, like only a month or so had passed since Dad was killed. In the line of duty. What a line of bullshit.

I wasn’t in any mood to remind myself that he truly had died doing something important. Today it just didn’t matter. He was gone. 

“Let’s see how fast we can run today, huh boy?” I asked Steve, clipping his lead to his collar.

I took it easy for the first five minutes, not wanting to injure myself or the dog, but then, I picked up the speed. I ran faster and faster, until even Steve was having to properly run to keep up with me. I ran until my lungs burned as badly as my legs, until my vision started to blur, until I absolutely had to stop, gasping, hands on knees.

Steve, ever patient to his crazy owner’s whims, stood next to me, waiting for me to get my breath back. He nosed my face after a few minutes, checking if I was ok. I scratched him under the chin. I had the absolute best dog. Instead of talking to him, I just set off again, not quite as quickly as before. 

 

 

............................................................................

 

 

When Steve and I got back, Ginny was at the door, letting herself in. 

“How’d it go?” she asked, turning the key in the lock. She looked back at me when I didn’t answer. My expression must have given it away. “That well, huh?”

“About as much cheer as Remembrance Day,” I replied, letting Steve off the leash so he could check the flat for nefarious intruders. 

“Remembrance?” Ginny asked, then nodded. “Right. Your dad.” Then her eyes widened. “Really? That bad?”

“Let’s just say words were exchanged of a paternal nature on both sides, and I decided that we were done.”

Ginny just looked at me. Then she stepped closer, examining my face, still red from the run, then reached for the chain around my neck, pulling out the dog tags. Her face softened. “Oh, honey.”

“I’m good, Gin,” I said. “I’ll be fine. He’s just an asshole.”

“If I see him, I’m kicking him in the balls,” she said, face fierce. I had trouble picturing my happy-go-lucky friend kicking anyone in the balls, no matter how much he deserved it, so I chuckled.

“Not if I kick him first,” I replied. “Although that might be too kind.”  No, I decided. The correct thing to do was to pretend he’d never come into my life, never existed. That would be punishment enough. And besides, he wasn’t worth my time anyway. Not a scrap of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note - the reason I didn't give Tessa's dad a service number is because I didn't want to give him a real person's service number by mistake. That wouldn't be ok.


	10. A Step Montage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa's coping. Just.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but the next chapter's done - I just need to edit it before I post it.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think of it!

The next few days passed. I had my own little routine, for after I’d been blindsided by Dad’s memory. I put the dog tags on every morning, I ran almost every day, mindful of not injuring myself. The only thing worse than not being able to run every day would be to not be able to run at all for months. So I ramped up my mileage cautiously, mindful of my legs and Steve’s.

And I wrote. I wrote so much every day that I pushed into the late hours of the night, writing many thousands of words a day. I finished off the commissions I had and delved into the novel I was working on.

My main character and I had been having difficulties. I had made her too sympathetic, without faults. But now I had plenty of new ones to draw upon, from my association with the God of Awful, as I’d rechristened Loki. Anton preferred the God of Evil. He really liked Coulson. And so I wrote some of His Awfulness’s snideness, his disregard for others, into Jennifer, and she seemed more real.

At work, I buried myself in the concerns of others, or in a new book. At home, I dived into my fantasy world, or Anton and Ginny’s concerns. I cooked for the three of us, quasi-family dinners that we sometimes managed to eat at the same time. In effect, I tried to think about my own self as little as possible for the week after the lunch. I skipped ballroom, sending Marina a quick text to let her know, saying I wasn’t feeling well.

I knew Ginny and Anton were a little worried about me. I didn’t often get quite so obsessive, so focused on work so that I hardly even watched TV with them in the evenings, but they left me alone anyway, and I was grateful. 

And Loki didn’t bother me. I saw neither hide nor hair of him as I went about my days. Even when I decided to resume my coffee shop rotation I didn’t see him. After the third day, I didn’t look any more. He’d left me alone, as I’d asked. Good for him. 

I could go back to my real life.

 

 


	11. From This Moment On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa, finally starting to feel better, decides to spend the day in Greenwich.

Nine days after the Incident, I woke up to my alarm. 6am. I groaned as I sat up, reaching for the dog tags, which I’d left hanging on the lamp on my bedside table. I turned them in my fingers, spinning a circular tag between thumb and middle finger. “Miss you, Dad,” I murmured, putting the chain around my neck. 

I wrote for an hour, waking up as my fingers tapped on the keyboard, making Jennifer drive up to the moors of Scotland in bad weather, chuckling slightly as I made the weather worse and worse for her. I probably should have felt badly for my poor protagonist, but I was just amused. 

A few minutes after seven, after Jennifer had taken shelter at a cozy B&B a hundred miles north of Edinburgh, I strolled into the kitchen and started to make coffee. Less than a minute after the smell of coffee started to permeate the kitchen, Ginny walked in, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” I said, feeling absurdly cheerful for the first time in a while. 

“I hate you,” she said, eyes still not fully open against the glare of the kitchen lights. I laughed. 

“Sure you do.” The coffee maker clicked and switched itself off. I poured her a cup, handing it over.

She took a sip. “Why’re you up this early?” she asked.

I poured coffee into a cup for myself. “I’ve been doing it all week. Getting up at six, writing for a few hours before anyone else gets up.” Ginny didn’t say anything. “I think I’m going into Greenwich today,” I said.

“Oh?” Ginny looked more surprised than she should have done. Maybe she and Anton had been right to worry about me.

“I’ve got the day off work, and I want to take a walk around the university. I’ll probably stop by the Maritime Museum too.”

“Sounds lovely,” Ginny said, nose still in her coffee cup. “Want company?”

I shook my head. “I’m good. Besides,” I said, poking her, “I know you have work today, Missy.” She moved away from the poke. 

“I’d go if you wanted me to.”

“I know,” I told her. “And I appreciate it. I really do.” 

“Still taking Steve out this morning?” she asked, changing the subject. I was grateful. Neither of us were much given to sappiness. 

 

 

 

I walked out of the DLR station at Maritime Greenwich and straight into the Waterstone’s next door. No matter how often I reminded myself that I worked at a bookshop, that I had access to libraries, I still walked into every bookshop I passed. I picked up a new edition of Persuasion I hadn’t seen before - my store didn’t stock it - and opened it. I breathed in the new-book smell, sighing. I’d read somewhere that they made a perfume that smelled like books, but I’d never actually seen it. Wouldn’t that be heaven? 

After another half hour browsing, I left the shop empty-handed, striding out into the misty morning. I’d timed my arrival so shops were just opening, and it wasn’t quite tourist season yet, so the streets were somewhat quiet. Not that any part of London could be classified as quiet.

Still, I wasn’t overly bothered by people as I wandered the streets. Greenwich was one of the places I’d considered trying to live, when searching for a flat before finding Ginny and Anton. It was quiet, genteel. And close to one of my favourite London sights. I was getting cold, so I walked more quickly towards the University of Greenwich.

Campus was littered with students, and I didn’t quite blend in with them as well as I used to. Something about me these days screamed ‘real adult, making own living’. On my right passed one of the Naval College buildings, and I debated, as I often did, going in and exploring. 

But as with most things, I had a routine for my visits to Greenwich. So I continued on past the Trinity Laban music school, strains of this, that, and the other pouring out through the single panes of glass and doors propped open. Then I turned left, towards the Thames, view for once unobscured by anything except a bit of lawn, on which my boots crunched as I walked. It hadn’t quite frozen the previous evening, but it had been a near thing, judging by the state of the grass.

I stood a few yards away from the river, watching it flow, not thinking about anything in particular. It was so peaceful here. I watched a few ducks float by, then a bit of flotsam. I continued my vigil at the waterside for a minute or two longer, then turned on a heel, a smile growing on my face. 

Next to my favourite bit of the university grounds. I walked a few hundred yards from the river and found them, the row of columns that was used in most period films at least once. I jogged up the few steps and started along the corridor between columns and the building itself, grinning properly. I didn’t quite know why I liked this place so much. Perhaps it was the fact I had seen it so many times, in so many different circumstances. Perhaps I just enjoyed the architecture. Perhaps I was just odd. 

I was so lost in my enjoyment of the columns, skipping outside one, then inside the next, that I didn’t notice him until I was right in front of him.

His Awfulness himself.

I stopped. “Go away,” I said, brushing past him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, appearing in front of me. I turned.

“Good. Now go away.”

“I didn’t know about your - “ He was in front of me again. I turned, heading between the columns this time.

“I know. I don’t care.” 

“Captain Henry R. Michaelson. Killed in action in Kandahar Province, Afghanistan on Remembrance Sunday, 2002.” I stopped. “Survived by grieving widow Anne and daughter Tessa, 12.” My hand clutched the dog tags hidden under my jacket. “I am truly sorry, Tessa.” Loki walked around me this time, instead of doing his magic act. “I did not know.”

“I know,” I said softly. “Doesn’t really help much.”

He pushed something into my hand, the one that wasn’t clutching dog tags. It was a little jewellery box. I opened it. Of course. Dog tags, American style ones, with my father’s name and information on them. Wrong format, though. I chuckled drily. 

Loki looked confused when I glanced at him. “I have the real ones,” I said, fishing them out from under my jacket. “See?” 

“May I?” he asked, reaching for them.

“Why not,” I replied, and he took them in gentle fingers, standing very close to me now. He turned them over, feeling, as I always did, the raised print with the pads of his fingers.

“I suppose I must apologise again,” he said, letting the tags fall. 

“That one’s fine,” I said, as he took back his gift. 

“That one?”

“I suppose you get forgiven for your wisecrack as well,” I said a bit warily. It was only fair. “I still don’t trust you, though.”

“And why should you,” he replied, much to my amazement. “Will you sit with me for a moment?” he said, gesturing to the steps. “Give me five minutes. If I haven’t convinced you to trust me, at least a little bit, in that time, I swear I will not bother you again.”

I thought. “You’ll swear?”

“On my mother’s life.” He looked convincing. And I figured he actually liked Frigga still, so he might not take her name in vain. It was worth a shot. 

“Five minutes.”

“I hadn’t actually watched those films you spoke of, when we talked last week,” Loki began. “I had read synopses, and, as the grand facts were correct, I assumed the details were as well.” I leaned against a column, watching him. He seemed more like himself today, if I even knew what that was. More straightforward. ‘You’re only hearing him out to get him to leave you alone,’ I reminded myself. ‘Remember last week. Remember what you’ve been like.’

“After our…” 

“After lunch, when you insulted my father and I told you where to shove it?” I suggested. He flashed me a smile. 

“Indeed. After that, I decided I should watch the films in their entirety.” He made a face. “It turns out they weren’t quite as accurate as I believed. You see,” he looked up at me, probably to gauge my reaction to his next statement. “As much as I was the villain - I did indeed long to destroy many a planet after my family’s betrayal, I will admit. I was in the wrong. But I was not the only one.”

I’d read some theory long ago suggesting something similar. “You don’t actually mean?” There went my mouth, running off on its own again.

He looked confused. “I was controlled myself.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It isn’t common magic, nor is it pleasant. I had some measure of free will - my darker desires were unchained, unfettered by any conscience I had left - so I was able to do horrendous things. Like enslave Agent Barton. And kill Phillip Coulson.” He looked down. “I have no proof of this, of course.” I didn’t speak for a minute, trying to digest what Loki had just said. 

“You realise,” I said slowly, “That your explanation is awfully convenient. You get off scott free this way. You get to shovel all the blame onto Thanos, or whomever.”

Loki had been pacing slowly, waiting for my reaction. Now he came back, standing two steps below me. Which of course meant I could barely see the top of his head, he was so tall.

“I do wish you wouldn’t say his name,” he said. “Although I doubt he is watching this dimension, given that he is a fictional character here. And yes,” he continued, looking me squarely in the eye. “My explanation would be convenient, if I took none of the blame.” I looked back, not really believing it. “I was imprisoned on Asgard for years before Odin sent me here, remember. I have had opportunity to accept responsibility for my part. Even when I was first captured, I knew I bore some measure of the blame for the events on Midgard. I had sought out Thanos myself, after all.” 

I swallowed. Looking for Thanos wasn’t traditionally something a smart person did. He nodded. 

“I wasn’t quite… I was not completely sane, at that time,” he said. He looked way. “My five minutes are up.”

“That’s not precisely fair,” I protested. “You can hardly dump all of this on me and expect me to make a decision.”

“I do not.” It was my turn to look at him, puzzled. “If you wish to know no more of this, I will leave.” He took one of my hands, gently, in his own. “If, however, there is a part of you, no matter how small, that might be convinced that I just spoke the truth, I would ask you to allow me to remain in contact with you.”

“So you can get back to Asgard?” I asked. It came out more harshly than I meant. He let go of my hand.

“That is part of it, yes,” he agreed. “I would like to get home. And I cannot believe that Frigga would have made my return harmful to anyone else but myself. But it is lonely in this world, without anyone to speak to.” Was he about to - “I would very much like to continue to speak to you, if I may.”

I shook my head, turning it to lean against the pillow. “I don’t know, Loki.” It was so tempting to believe him. After all, the terrible things, the circumstances that had made them so terrible, were all due to misunderstanding. If he were telling the truth. If. 

It was a big if.

“I’m an idiot,” I said, turning to look back at Loki. He didn’t say anything. “Can you promise me something?”

“Name it.”

“Swear on Frigga’s life?”

“What do you wish me to swear?”

“If at any time, I decide that I don’t trust you, that you’ll leave. That I’ll never see you again.”

“I, Loki, son of Laufey, raised by Odin, son of Frigga, do swear that if Tessa Michaelson ever asks it of me, I will make sure she never encounters me again.” On any other man’s lips, the words would have sounded stilted, but they flowed with complete sincerity from Loki.

It didn’t matter anyway, I thought. Ultimately, if Loki wanted to keep stalking me, he would, and no promise would stop him. So I had nothing to lose by humouring him. I hoped.

“Very well.” I walked down two steps to stand next to him, feeling every inch of the five inch height difference. “I agree. If I can help you get home somehow, assuming that it doesn’t involve hurt to myself or anyone else, I will. And you can talk with me.” I saw, sneaking a glance at him, the smile spread across his features, pure delight, before he controlled it.

“In that case, may I compensate for lunch by purchasing you a cup of tea?” 

“We can grab coffee,” I said, gesturing towards the Maritime Museum. “They have a nice cafe. But I pay my own way.”

“Very well.” He offered his arm, but I didn’t take it. 

“Sorry, Loki.” I said, heading off in the appropriate direction. “Not this time.” He kept step with me.

“You are a continual surprise, Tessa Michaelson.”

“You too, Loki Sturlusson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know the whole "Loki was controlled by Thanos" theory is kind of controversial, but I like it. And it's the only way I can see Tessa, or anyone else, for that matter, being ok with Loki in a short period of time. (Because there's more plot and drama to come, so those two need to get together. Stat.)
> 
> Also, I've decided on an update schedule, a real one: I'll update Thursdays and Saturdays, unless I have a busy week, and then I'll only update on Thursdays. But I will keep updating, this I swear! (On Frigga, Loki's mother, who is filled with awesome)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!


	12. I Wrote A Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa takes Loki to the Globe...

“You did what?” Ginny asked. She said it so flatly it was hardly a question. 

“I spoke with him. He apologised for what he said about Dad, and I forgave him. And for the other stuff, well, there are extenuating circumstances, ok?” I jumped on one leg, trying to put my shoes on in the kitchen while still talking to Ginny. “And he’s going to be here in five minutes!”

“You told him where we live?” This time it really was a question, practically shouted.

“As if he couldn’t figure it out,” I snapped back. “Big deal.”

“And where, exactly, are you two going?” she asked, still rather acerbically.

“The Globe,” I said. “We’re going to see Julius Ceasar.”

She pottered around the kitchen, moving the flour from one counter to the other. “That… might actually be a good idea.”

“I’m glad you think so,” I said drily.

“Yeah, the plot, Cassius, Brutus, oh, I see it,” she said. “And you’ll be standing in the pit, right?”

“On floor level,” I agreed. “Which is the best way to see a play at the Globe anyway, I think. You’re right in the middle of the action.”

“And will you be mouthing along the words to Mark Antony’s speech?” Ginny teased.

“As if I know all the words to that speech,” I scoffed.  A knock sounded on the door. “That’ll be him.”

“Be safe!” Ginny called. 

“Very funny,” I shouted back, already in the hallway. I slid back the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Good evening, Tessa,” Loki said, immaculately dressed for the cold in his overcoat, gloves, and a green scarf. Of course.

“Hi,” I said. “Let me just grab my coat.”

“Of course,” he said, and politely waited in the doorway as I snatched my coat off the peg, along with my hat, gloves, scarf, and my bag. 

“Bye Ginny!” I called.

“Bye!” I heard her reply, voice a bit muffled through the walls. 

“Shall we?” I asked, moving out into the hallway myself and shutting the door behind me.

“Indeed.” We walked in silence out of the building, and down to the Tube station, where I saw the most bizarre sight - Loki, Asgardian God of Lies and Mischief, using an Oyster card. I wasn’t sure why I found it so odd, but I found myself giggling like a lunatic.

“What on earth is so funny?” he asked, catching up with me.

“You. Oyster card.” I managed to say. “Sorry.” He frowned.

“I fail to see the hilarity.”

“Of course you don’t,” I said, preceding him down the stairs. “That’s what made it so funny!” 

Loki still looked affronted as we waited for the train to arrive on the platform. “So this play,” he began. 

“Julius Ceasar.”

“I have researched it online.”

“Did you read it?”

“No.”

“Oh, good.” He looked confused. “I always like to watch a play before I read it. It’s less clinical that way.”

He nodded. “It is understandable.” The approaching train blew our coats together. “Although I think you may have had ulterior motives in picking this particular play.”

“And if I did?” I almost shouted over the noise of the train, grinning at him. I stepped into the mostly-full car, leaning myself against the door separating the carriages. Loki came to stand beside me, reaching up for a handhold. 

“I do like the play,” I said. “Any ulterior motives I may have had are secondary. Watching Shakespeare live is incredible. And if you have access to the Globe?” I shrugged, letting go of my handhold for a minute. “You’d be an idiot not to gooo-” The train leapt forward as I said the last word, and I pitched forward into Loki.

A hand twined around my waist, steadying me, and my arms, which had been flailing, clasped around his back. He certainly was, well, firm.

“Oops,” I said, backing away. “Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” Loki said, a very crooked smile on his face. He moved a bit closer as people shifted. I put both hands on the handhold this time. I tried not to think about how well I’d fit against him, my head tucking neatly under his chin, how firm the muscles in his back had felt, even through his thick woollen coat.

I managed the rest of the Tube journey without falling into Loki again, although I did notice he had shifted his feet in case of further flying Tessa. 

“So,” Loki said as we exited the station. “This Shakespeare. You like his work?”

“Like?” I asked. “You could say that. Shakespeare was amazing. I mean, the fact that he’s still so popular today is testament to that. And he got away with inventing a crazy amount of words, the number of phrases we use today that are from his plays is incredible, and more than people realise, and - Loki!” We’d been crossing the road out of the station, and Loki had just continued across the median without looking for traffic. I grabbed onto his coat as I saw the bus hurtling towards us, yanking him back a yard. 

“Christ, Loki!” I said, his arm still in both of mine. “Look before you cross the street! You were almost roadkill!” I let go of his arm, smoothing hair back from my face.

Loki just looked puzzled. “Apologies, Tessa.”

“Just be more careful,” I told him. “Now we can cross.” 

“Now,” he said, once we were safely across the street, making our way towards Southwark Cathedral along with the usual gaggle of tourists. “What were you saying about Shakespeare?”

I tried to find my train of thought. “Ummm.. I think the only other thing I was going to say, other than that his use of language is amazing, is that I just really love his work. He’s one of my favourite authors. And definitely my favourite playwright.” Loki digested that as we walked on. I was glad for my warm coat and the gloves I’d stashed in my bag. I’d need them, if we were going to be standing out in the elements for hours.

“Do you have plays and stuff on Asgard?” I asked. “You must, right?”

“We do,” Loki replied, “But not as you think of them here. They are more like  the story of Odysseus, and the silly Roman man - what’s his name?”

“Aeneas?” I asked. I didn’t like Aeneas much either. He was a douchebag for leaving Dido, in my opinion.

“Him,” Loki confirmed.

“So Asgardian plays are more like dramatic retellings of historical events or myths? Kind of like odes?”

“Yes,” Loki said. “Somehow we do not have the drive towards imagination in written work. Our music, however,” he sighed. “I’m afraid to say Midgardian music cannot compare.”

“Listen to it all before you judge,” I scolded, but I didn’t put too much heat into it. I certainly didn’t like most modern music. “We’ve got about a millennium of music here on Midgard. I’m sure there’ll be something you like.”

Loki didn’t say anything, but from the set of his mouth, I could tell he doubted it. We passed the Cathedral, then wound into the pedestrian streets just south of the Thames. 

“This looks to be significantly older than the rest of the city,” Loki remarked, running a hand along a building.

“I think some of it is pretty old,” I said. “But a lot of it’s just for show, I think. It’s a bit tourist-y down here.”

“So I see,” Loki grinned, watching a group of schoolchildren passing us. As we walked, I people-watched. It was one of the only compensations for dealing with this many people in a confined space. I saw a family, all wrapped up from head to toe in puffer jackets, scarves, hats, gloves, and boots. They had probably come from somewhere lovely and warm - perhaps South America?

There was an art student, with his floppy beanie and plaid flannel jacket, clearly coming back from the Tate with a head full of inspiration. And a couple, whispering to each other as they sat on a bench. I didn’t even notice the shouting was directed at me until Loki grabbed my arm and pulled me almost behind him.

By this time, we were at the entrance to the Globe. I looked up and saw a few actors leaning out of an upstairs window. They were looking down at us, practically leering at me. 

“What a lovely wench!” One of them shouted. “Any chance you’d come walking with me, sweetheart?” I shot him the bird with a grin, and he grinned back.

“Come on, Loki,” I said, trying to go in, but he still had my arm in his grip and wasn’t moving, glaring up at the men. “They’re just actors.” He looked at me, uncomprehending. “It’s for fun.” I tugged again. He came with me, this time, not letting go of my arm.

“Fun?” he asked. “Insulting you like that?” 

“It takes a bit more than calling me a wench and hitting on me to insult me properly,” I told him. As you know, I thought. “I should have warned you. They like to treat the Globe as an exercise in creative anachronism. In a lot of ways, going to a play here is like going to see it when Shakespeare was alive.” 

We passed someone dressed in black, droning on in a monotone about the evils of plays. “See him?” I pointed. “He’s probably a Puritan. Or something. Someone who thought plays were evil, and led to ungodliness, and sin, and hell.”

Loki grinned. “Those people existed?”

“Look up Oliver Cromwell’s reign,” I said. “They were real enough.” I showed our tickets to the attendant and noticed Loki frowning at me. 

“You did not have to buy those tickets,” he said. “I thought it was customary for the man to pay.”

“On dates. Which this is not,” I said. “Besides, this is my treat. I’ve been wanting to see this for a while. You gave me an excuse.” The crowd pushed Loki from his casual distance far into my personal space.

“Well, if you put it that way,” he said darkly into my ear, and I blushed. That voice, in my ear, made a shiver shoot down my spine. We made it into the theatre and found places to stand, Loki directly behind me. 

Well, it made sense. He was almost a head taller than I was, after all. If I stood behind him, I’d see precisely nothing. Loki perused the program he’d bought, and I surveyed the crowd. 

A few minutes before the play was due to start, the same actors who’d heckled me as we came in joined the audience and started cheering for Ceasar. I grinned and joined in.

“Is this really the play?” Loki asked.

“No,” I said. “Not yet. I think they’re just getting us in the mood.”

“In the mood for what?” Loki muttered. I turned to him, grinning.

“Come on, Loki, forget we’re in the 21st century for a bit. Pretend we’re in ancient Rome for a few hours. Have some fun. It won’t kill you.”

“Very well,” he said, smiling back. “I shall try.”

 

It turned out Loki had quite a bit of fun during the play. He was fascinated by the power dynamics between the characters, as I’d guessed he would be. He gave me a running commentary on what he would have done, first instead of Ceasar, then instead of Brutus, and cheered for the characters along with the rest of the audience, and flinched when a facsimile of a dead cow flopped down from above the stage, pulling me a few inches backwards with him.

I enjoyed the play too, letting the familiar words flow over me. The actors were just amazing. As always, I pitied Ceasar, hated Mark Antony, the traitor, and really liked Brutus. He really was the most sympathetic character in the whole thing, I mused. 

But something else was bothering me. When the first intermission rolled around, I was shivering, and I dove in my bag for my hat, scarf, and gloves.

“Take this,” Loki said, giving me a cup that warmed my hands in an instant, wisps of steam curling above the dark red liquid. 

“What is it?” I asked, sniffing suspiciously. I smelled cinnamon, and cloves, and alcohol?

“Mulled wine,” he said. 

“Trying to get me drunk, Loki?” I teased.

“Trying to get you warm,” he retorted. I held the cup up towards him. “Drunk would be a pleasant side effect.” I gave him a look, then offered him the cup.

“You first.”

He took the cup. “You realise I have a completely different physiology than you do?” he asked, one side of his mouth curling in a smirk.

“Humour me.” He sipped, then handed back the cup. I turned it in my hands, enjoying the warmth, then drank myself.

The first thing I tasted was citrus, almost scalding my tongue, then the spices and the alcohol. I closed my eyes. It was delicious. And warm. “Thanks,” I said, opening my eyes and smiling at him.

He was smiling back down at me, green eyes warm. Oh dear. I searched for something, anything, to say. 

“You aren’t cold?” I asked. 

He shook his head. “The cold has yet to have an effect on me,” he replied, then his eyes lit. “Or, as I believe you would have it, ‘the cold never bothered me anyway.’” I stared at him in shock. 

“Let it go, let it go,” he sang softly. “That is the song, isn’t it?” I burst out laughing. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” I said, laughing. “So, you’ve seen Frozen, then?” I asked.

“Even I was unable to resist,” he said drily. I took another sip of the mulled wine, grateful for its warmth.

“Congratulations,” I finally said.

“For what?”

“You made your first Midgardian reference,” I said, “and it was a good one. Bottoms up!” I toasted him with my cup. 

“Is that another reference?” he asked warily.

“James Bond,” I said. “You have much to learn of Midgardian pop culture, grasshopper.”

“Grasshopper?”

 


	13. If You Smile At Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tessa are at it again... Ballroom dancing, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, 300 views! Thank you so much for reading my little fic!
> 
> Here's more Loki, more Tessa, and more dancing

“You’re back!” Marina called, spotting me in the doorway. “And you brought tall, pale, and handsome with you,” she continued, spotting Loki, who was standing behind me. I gave her a hug. “Feeling better?” she asked a bit more quietly. “We missed you last week.”

“Yeah, lots,” I said, smiling. “Thanks.” I gave her a final squeeze, then let go.

“Miss Marina,” Loki said as we separated. “A pleasure to see you again.” He took one of her hands and bowed, kissing her knuckles. She giggled, and I grinned. Loki was kind of a goof - I’d realised that when he’d continued to hum songs from Frozen the entire way home from the Globe, making the lyrics fit what we were doing. I’d never hear “Do You Want To Build A Snowman” the same way ever again.

I’d realised it again when we’d been in the library, fruitlessly searching Norse mythology for a clue to getting Loki back home. An hour and a half in, Loki had used magic to make the pencils on the table walk around. I’d stared at them for a solid minute before breaking out in laughter, causing every head in the room to snap to us, and the pencils to fall to the table, motionless. Once everyone had resumed their activities, Loki had made the pencils walk up his arm and over to mine.

“So, Loki,” Marina  asked. “Decided to come back, did you? Did Tessa corrupt you sufficiently first time out?”

I blushed. Loki grinned wickedly at me. “I think I was sufficiently corrupt already, actually. But I will admit that I needed no encouragement to return.” 

“What are we doing today?” I asked Marina, trying to change the subject. 

“Quickstep and jive, I think,” she replied. “And Luke’s here,” she said, moving away. “He brought me my ballroom shoes - gotta go!” She scampered over to her boyfriend in the doorway. 

“So, what should I expect this time?” Loki asked in my ear. I was still watching Marina and Luke. They were almost as cute together as Anton and Ginny, the way they moved around each other. It was as if they knew exactly where the other was at all times - like they were two poles of a magnet or something. No, that wasn’t quite right, I mused, the writer in me searching for a more accurate simile. But it was close enough.

“Quickstep,” I said, replying to Loki’s question at last. “Well, it’s quick.” Loki chuckled. “Just you wait,” I told him. “Quickstep is inevitably quicker than you think it will be. And jive - it doesn’t really have hip action like cha cha does. It’s bouncier.” I turned to look at Loki. “I’m not sure whether or not you have the reference, but it’s 60s. Like American swing, but different.”

“1960’s?” Loki asked. I nodded. “You are correct. I am not sure what that is supposed to mean.”

“Girls in poodle skirts and knee socks,” I quipped. Loki looked blank. “Never mind.” 

“Is it much different than waltz?” he asked. 

“It’s not similar,” I replied, not really thinking and turning to face him. He had a funny expression on his face, so I took a step closer. He looked … nervous? “You’ll be fine,” I said. 

“Of course I will,” he retorted, any uncertainty vanishing from his face. I supposed I must have misread his expression. I just shrugged and raised my arms to my sides, trying to feel the stretch running underneath my elbows. 

“I still don’t understand why you come to these classes,” Loki commented when I’d found the stretch and was beginning to turn one way and the other, stepping backwards on one foot, then the other. 

I was a little annoyed. “I like it,” I said. “It’s fun.” I moved out onto the floor a little ways and tried what we’d been working on the previous weekend - we’d spent almost an hour and a half trying to get a simple waltz figure as close to perfect as we could. Not that it was the same without a partner, but sometimes it was easier that way. I could get my own steps right. 

“Wanna dance?” I heard from over my shoulder, and turned. Luke was standing there, changed into his ballroom duds, hand out. 

I glanced over at Loki, who was talking to Marina. “Sure,” I said. 

“Waltz, right?” I nodded, and let him pull me into hold.

“You’re getting better at this,” he said as we moved around the floor. We weren’t doing a routine or anything, so he had his hand a bit further towards my spine, leading me. 

“Thanks,” I said. Luke was a great dancer - he’d started when he was little, and any compliment he gave had weight. 

“I think I’d better go remind my girlfriend I exist,” he said, completing our circuit of the room with a spin turn. “Before she goes off with your guy.”

“He’s hardly my guy,” I protested as I followed Luke off the floor, but I don’t think he heard me. Luke slid up behind Marina, putting his arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her right temple. I moved to lean against the wall next to Loki.

“You looked exceptionally competent out there,” Loki commented so softly only I could here. 

“Thank you,” I said. 

“I fear we will not look as competent,” he said.

I waved that off. “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “This is supposed to be fun, right? And besides, I like dancing with you.”

“You do?” he asked, eyebrows rising.

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly needing to look anywhere other than at him. I smoothed my skirt. “You may not know the dances, but you know how to lead, which is, speaking frankly, a real relief.” I dared a glance up at Loki. He was looking out at the floor, a little, self-satisfied grin on his face. Well, I knew he had a big ego. 

“Tessa?” Emma was approaching.

“Hi Emma, what’s up?” I asked, walking the few steps to bridge the gap between us.

“He’s back,” she said, looking over my shoulder at Loki. “He’s a good partner. He can keep up with you. Oh, and do you have your phone?” she asked. “I forgot mine.”

“Sure,” I said, going back for it, and placing it in Emma’s hand.

“I know you have twenties music on here somewhere,” she said with a grin.

“Hour and hours,” I replied. “And I have some jive on there as well, I think. There should be a playlist.”

“I’ll find it,” Emma said. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I replied.

“You should bring him to the ball,” she said. The ball? Oh - no. Emma must have mistaken my look of panic for a look of surprise, because she went on. “You know, the winter ball, the one in a week?” She winked at me. “You were planning on coming, weren’t you?”

I blushed. “Sure, maybe.”

“If you don’t ask him, I’ll ask him for you,” she threatened. 

“Don’t you dare,” I almost hissed, but she just waved at me, moving back to the AV equipment to fiddle with my phone. I walked back to Loki, Marina, and Luke, reeling just a bit. 

“You should totally come!” Marina was saying to Loki. She leaned forward, conspiratorially, but I was close enough now to hear what she said. “I know what Tessa’s planning on wearing, and trust me, you’re going to want to be around to see it.” At that point, I might have been able to break in on the conversation, but Marina continued. “It’s this black strapless ballgown, all satin, and - hi Tessa!” she said, spotting me at last. I’m sure my face was red as a beet. 

“What are we talking about?” I said, trying to act as if my face weren’t its own private heat source.

“Emma’s studio’s winter ball,” Marina said. “We were saying Loki should come. Keep you from standing around like a wallflower half the time.” This time, I flat-out glared at Marina. I did just fine at balls, thank you very much. If I wasn’t dancing every dance, or as much as I would wish, then that was my own problem, wasn’t it? I opened my mouth, about to say something very ill-advised to one of my best friends, but Loki was already speaking.

“I find it hard to imagine that Tessa ever finds herself without a willing partner,” he said smoothly. 

“Be nice if that were true,” I replied, trying to say it as lightly as I could. “Not that it’s a big deal.” Just then, Emma called the class to order, and Marina and Luke went to practice on their own. Loki put an arm around my waist as we joined the class, bending slightly so he could speak in my ear.

“I would very much like to escort you to the ball Marina spoke of,” he said, voice going dark again. I fought down my instinctive shiver as his breath ghosted over my ear. I turned, a little unsure. Of course, it’d be nice to have a partner to go to one of those things with. To dance when I wanted to, not when there was a partner free. And Loki in a suit - I glanced at him. He’d lost the smug look from earlier, but was waiting for my response.

“I’d like that,” I said, giving him a small smile. His face lit, smiling one of the most genuine smiles I’d seen out of him. There wasn’t any guile, any dissembling in it. It was just happy.

 

 

Later, as the ballroom section of the class wrapped up, I was glad I’d said yes. I’d forgotten, or let myself forget, how lovely it was to dance with Loki. We swept along the floor as if we’d been dancing together for years, even making mistakes at the same time. 

“Now with music,” Emma said, and pressed play on my phone. Fred Astaire singing “Top Hat, White Tie and Tails” floated over the stereo, and I grinned. 

“What?” Loki asked, hand in mine as we walked back to our starting point.

“I love this song,” I said, grinning like a lunatic. It didn’t get much better than this, I decided, dancing quickstep to one of my favourite songs, with a man I might possibly - I stopped myself there. Not possible. I was not, repeat not, going to fall for Loki. He pulled me into hold, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of where our bodies touched.

I’d thought I’d been aware of that before, but suddenly every point of contact, our joined hands, his hand at my back, our hips, suddenly became extra sensitive. Oh dear. We started dancing, and I went to put my right foot back, and I tripped. Maybe someone’s foot was in the way, maybe there had been a gap between one of the floorboards I wasn’t expecting. Either way, I was suddenly falling backwards, hand jerking out of Loki’s grip in surprise. 

One arm wrapped around the small of my back, stopping my fall, a hand going to my head, stopping it from whiplashing. My left foot was between his, my right bent behind me, supporting some ludicrously small portion of my weight. I looked up to Loki’s green eyes very close to mine.  I couldn’t think, my head still spinning from the fall and my sudden stop, or something. My heart pounded - he must be able to feel it, with his arm around me, my hands somehow having ended up on his chest.

That moment lasted forever, and took no time at all. 

Someone let out a wolf whistle, and Loki closed his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked, stepping back and putting me on my feet again.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Thank you.” I was standing now, barely a foot from the god, hands still on his chest. He’d let go of my head, but still had an arm around my waist.

“Tessa,” Emma said. “I know I taught you how to do a better contracheck than that.” I burst out laughing at that, hands going to my stomach and meeting Loki’s. I glanced up, and he was looking at me, confused.

“What’s a contracheck?” someone asked. 

“Why don’t you and Loki show them, Tessa,” Emma said, eyes glittering evilly. “No, don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do,” she told Loki. “Tessa, please,” she said, and I assumed the - massively uncomfortable - contracheck position, moving back from Loki slightly and bending both legs.

There was a trick to doing a contracheck - one I really didn’t have mastered, but I knew the basics. In reality, I had my weight balanced on both feet equally, but somehow, through creative bending and stretching of my legs, it looked like I was leaning back. 

“Very nice,” Emma approved, adjusting my position minutely. “You’ve been practicing.” She whispered a few instructions in Loki’s ear, who nodded. “Now,” Emma said, “together.”

I took up hold with Loki, still very much aware of his body close to mine. I stepped back, and he stepped with me, our legs interlocking so I had even more support, and I leaned back, turning even farther left. There was a murmur in the class, so I assumed we looked somewhat correct. 

“Just don’t look at her,” Emma instructed, and I wished I could glance at Loki. But if I moved my head now, I wouldn’t be able to get up. My legs informed me that if I didn’t make them move soon, they’d give up the ghost too, so I pushed and we returned to ballroom hold.

“I believe I like our version better,” Loki said in my ear as class resumed. 

“I do too,” I said, smiling up at him. Gosh, his face was really close to mine. If I just leaned forward a few more inches… But I’d had something more to say. “I especially like the part where I didn’t smash my head on the floor.” Loki’s grin flashed, and I felt a sinking in my stomach.

I was starting to have feelings for the guy. God. Alien.

Oh bother.

 

 

 


	14. Chaperons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's prom night, and Loki meets the parents. Well, Anton and Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a little late where you are - I'm switching time zones and I'm a bit jetlagged. Have a lovely weekend!

Ginny zipped up the back of my dress. I’d tried to do it myself, but I just hadn’t managed. The problem was that the zip, instead of going straight up and down along my spine, was diagonal, along the v of nude mesh and ribbons that started at my shoulders and tapered to just below my waist. When zipped, it looked like the front of the strapless dress was pulled together with the crisscrossing ribbons. It looked like a rather flimsy construction, actually, but it was really very secure, what with the boning in the bodice of the dress and the completely un-stretchy mesh that now secured the back of my dress.

I smoothed my hands down my skirt, looking in the mirror. “Thanks, Ginny,” I said. I sounded nervous, my voice a little higher-pitched than usual. Tonight was the ball. I was going to a ball with Loki. 

“No problem,” Ginny said, her lips pressed together. She didn’t approve of Loki, and I hadn’t exactly been able to keep my little infatuation to myself. Then Ginny gave me a smile. “You’ll knock his socks off,” she said. 

“You think?” 

“If he’s not suitably impressed, you can take Anton to the ball with you,” Ginny said. I giggled. Anton emphatically could not dance - I’d witnessed it.

“If that’s the other offer, I think I’ll go stag,” I replied. “Seriously, though, Gin’. This is kind of a big deal for me. Try and be ok with it?” I looked at her in the mirror. She gave me a small smile, then nodded. Ginny went back into the living room, where Anton was watching something on the TV, and left me to dither. 

Shoes weren’t a problem - I’d be wearing my ballroom shoes, so no choice there. And I wasn’t going to be wearing much makeup either, not when I was inevitably going to sweat most of it off in thirty minutes. The ballroom was always overheated. Which left me with jewellery.

I walked over to the box on the dresser, dress swishing on the floor as I walked. I pried open the box, assessing my options. I usually wore studs of some description, earrings that weren’t too valuable, things I wouldn’t miss if I lost one. 

But tonight was special. I felt a flutter in my stomach as I thought about it, appearing at the ball tonight on Loki’s arm. Wonderful, the first date nerves were in full swing. My fingers didn’t linger over my collection of studs, instead rooting through the tumbled together other earrings. A few years ago, I’d had a lovely pair of earrings from my mother, but I’d hardly worn them. A flash of white caught my eye, and I pulled the earrings out from the rest.

They were silver, with white stones - not diamonds, but fake ones, zirconia, or whatever they were called - and they were beautiful. The stones and silver, flowers and stems, twined downwards, ending in a tear-shaped stone. 

Those. Those would do. I clipped them in and went back to the mirror. Someone I didn’t quite recognise stared back at me. She was glamorous - a lady in a black gown that gave her a tiny waist, the skirt flaring out almost indecently wide. Her red hair was pulled up away from her face, with only one curly lock escaping to trail down her temple. Then I grinned, and I knew myself again. 

No grand lady had ever worn such an impish grin, and I half-turned, wanting to see the lace-up detail on the back of the dress. It did look like I was laced into the dress, rather precariously, really, and I grinned again. 

Tonight was going to be fun. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table - I had five more minutes before Loki was due to arrive. Might as well wait it out downstairs. I slipped into my street shoes, grabbed the bag with my dance shoes in it, and descended the stairs slowly, careful not to trip and fall on my skirts.

Skirts - I smirked as I thought it. Putting the plural was certainly apropos in this case, as the bottom half of the dress was certainly voluminous. It must have yards and yards of fabric in it.

“Wow,” Anton said. He’d turned on the couch, probably distracted from the TV by the swish of fabric, and was staring at me. “You clean up nice, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” I said, making my way down the final few steps. 

“Smile!” Ginny said, and I blinked as the flash went off. 

“God, Ginny!” I protested, blinked a few more times, trying to get my vision back to normal. “A little more warning before you play photographer, please?”

“But you look so pretty!” Ginny said, actually getting up this time, phone in hand. “Anton, come and put your arm around our girl.”

Anton grumbled and heaved himself off the couch, coming over. He was about to put his arm around my shoulders when he spotted the back of my dress. He raised an eyebrow at me. 

“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said, a note of warning in his voice. 

“Come on, you two,” Ginny said, behind her phone. “Say cheese!”

“Smoked gouda!” I said, 

“Jarlesberg,” Anton said, at the same time, and we started laughing. Which is when Ginny took the picture.

“Perfect!” she crowed. “Now just you, Tessa.” Anton crossed to Ginny, getting himself out of frame. I turned and pasted my normal awkward I’m-having-my-picture-taken smile to my face.

“No,” Anton said. “A real smile, Tessa.” 

“Not helping,” I shot back.

“Think of the look on everyone’s face when you walk in,” Ginny suggested, and I did smile. The camera flashed.

“Very nice,” Anton said, peering over Ginny’s shoulder. Then the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Ginny said, hurrying as I turned. “You stay in here.” My hands folded in front of me as I heard the door unlock, twining together. 

“Hello?” I heard Loki’s voice as Ginny opened the door. 

“You must be Loki,” she replied. “Tessa’s waiting for you. And, just so you know, I’m not a big fan of how you almost took over New York.”

“You must be Ginny,” Loki said, his voice growing ever closer. I could hear the crooked smile on his face. He rounded the corner and stopped, staring at me.

“Hi Loki,” I said, a bit awkwardly when he didn’t speak.

“Tessa,” he said, and I felt my stomach flip. He walked the few steps over to me, then took one of my hands in his and brought it to his lips. Now my stomach was an Olympic gymnast - flipping and somersaulting, never coming back down for any length of time. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling into his green eyes. Then my smile turned into a grin when I realised he hadn’t seen the back of my dress yet. 

“Ok, prom picture!” Ginny said, phone in hand once again. I groaned.

“Prom?” Loki asked, unmoving. I practically manhandled him into facing Ginny.

“Another Midgardian reference,” I said, preparing to smile at Ginny.

“Oh, come on,” she said from across the room. “Don’t act like two middle-schoolers at their first dance. Put your arm around her, God of Mischief. Don’t be shy.”

I was laughing when Loki snaked an arm around my waist, but stopped as he turned to look at my back when his fingers encountered the ribbons. I watched his eyes darken as he looked up and down the length of my back, then up to my face again. The flash of the camera made us both look up. 

“Smile,” Ginny said, grinning evilly. She was thoroughly enjoying playing Mom in our little twisted prom scenario. I wondered if Anton would try and give Loki a shovel talk later. So I smiled, and the flash went off again, and I blinked again. I really didn’t like those things.

Then a fuzzy bullet swarmed past Ginny’s legs and towards my dress.

“Steve! No!” I shouted, swerving away from Loki, trying to avoid getting dog hair and slobber on my dress. “Anton!” Steve had been shut in Ginny and Anton’s room for exactly this reason. At the last minute, Steve stopped, looking from me to Loki. His fur stood up on end and his hackles rose, but he didn’t make a sound. 

Dress forgotten, I crouched beside my dog, stroking his ears and cooing to him. “It’s ok, Stevie-boy. It’s ok. It’s only Loki.” Dear god, I just said only Loki, I thought. Loki, in best dog owner fashion, stretched a hand out for the German Shepherd to sniff.

“Steve, is it?” he asked with a grin. The dog took two steps forward and contacted Loki’s outstretched fingers, then started to sneeze. Loki crouched down as well, and Steve gave Loki his doggie grin, tongue lolling out to one side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Loki told the dog gravely. He ruffled the dog’s ears, and I relaxed. No imminent Steve/Loki scuffle. 

“Who’s a good doggie, then?” Loki asked Steve, and I started to giggle. Steve was apparently too adorable even for an Asgardian to ignore.

Loki unfolded and stood, holding out a hand to me to help me up, which I took. 

Anton was standing in the doorway, watching us suspiciously. My stomach twisted just a little. Great. Now Anton got to play mean dad.

“So this is him, huh?” he asked me. 

I nodded. “Anton, this is Loki. Loki, meet Anton, my other roommate.” Loki strode forward, hand outstretched. Anton didn’t take it. 

“I don’t trust you,” he said coldly, eyeing Loki up and down. “And I don’t like you. But Tessa does, so I’m prepared to tolerate you.” I made a noise of protest, which both men ignored. “If you hurt her, however,” Anton said, and I was surprised at how dangerous he seemed, “I will find a way to hurt you. I doubt I could kill you, but I’d think of something.”

I was afraid Loki was going to blow up, or walk out, or something. Instead he nodded. “I understand your concern for Tessa,” he said. “And I respect it. I swear to you I have no intention of harming her. Although I expect you would have more difficulty harming me than you imagine.”

I huffed at this point, still petting Steve by reflex.

“If the macho power play is over, can we go?” I asked. Both of them turned to me, and I slid past them, dress slightly too wide for the space, to grab my coat.  

“It was nice to meet you both,” Loki said, following me out.

“Have fun, Eve!” Ginny called.

“I will,” I called back, ushering Loki out in front of me as I shut the door.

“I very much like Steve,” Loki commented as he helped me with my coat. “He reminds me of a certain soldier I know - except perhaps more intelligent.” 

I laughed as we walked down the stairs and outside, where a black car was idling outside my building. Loki opened the door, and my jaw dropped.

“A car?” I asked. 

“Since there seem to be few chariots in Midgard at the present time, I opted for the next best option,” Loki grinned, and I clambered in, hampered by my skirts. 

 

 


	15. Saturday Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're at Chapter 15 already! (This is going to be a long fic, folks, so buckle up.)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading! I hope you like it!

There wasn’t any time to dwell on the strangeness of the evening, not once we were in the ballroom. I was either dancing with Loki, or waylaid by an acquaintance, or grabbing a quick drink of water. Then I was dancing again. Or talking. It was completely frenetic, and wonderful. 

My first opportunity for a bit of actual thought came when I was waltzing with Loki. The floor was relatively clear, and Loki definitely felt more comfortable with waltz than with any of the other ballroom dances. So I was relaxed, watching the top of the ballroom flash by as I let Loki lead me. _I’m waltzing with a Norse god_ , I thought absently as we took a spin turn around a corner. _And he’s surprisingly a great dancer. And he’s smart._ Loki had started going on about the actual General Unified Theory of physics when I’d showed him Stephen Hawking’s books. I’d understood about one word in five. _And he’s handsome._ I was very glad I wasn’t looking at him, because I felt my face flush.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Loki asked, pulling our interlinked hands down to avoid a pair of beginners that were hardly moving. I tightened my grip on his other arm in surprise, leaning fractionally closer to him so as to not lose my balance.

“I am,” I said when I was sure I wasn’t about to fall on my face and take Loki with me. “I haven’t had this much fun, gosh, in years.” I could hear the grin on Loki’s face.

“Good.”

 

 

Half an hour later, and I was finally sat down, watching the dancers flash past as Loki chatted with Emma, who was resplendent in a pink ballroom gown of her own. 

Someone brushed past me, then turned. “Hi, Tessa.” It was Oliver, one of the pair that taught our Sunday classes upon occasion. 

“Hi,” I said, smiling up at the man. He was the typical dancer. Tall, slim, and broad, although not as muscular as Loki, with short brown hair. 

“New partner?” he asked, glancing at Loki.

“Something like that,” I agreed. 

“You two look good together,” he said. Then he stopped. I could tell he was about to give me some teacherly advice.

“What am I doing wrong?” I asked with a grin.

“Not wrong,” Oliver said, frowning. “It’s just…”

“Not right?” I asked, not quite able to help myself. 

He smiled at me. “I guess. Yeah. So, when you’re dancing waltz, when you do a whisk and chasse?” I nodded. “The whisk looks good - you’re getting behind him well. But you aren’t exactly moving enough.” He shook his head. “This would be easier to explain if I showed you.” I smiled. I wasn’t about to give up a chance to dance with someone as capable as Oliver.

I stood and patted Loki on the arm. He turned, spotted Oliver, and his mouth tightened. Emma also saw her colleague, and grinned. “Loki?” I said. “This is Oliver - he’s one of the teachers for the Sunday classes.” I could feel Loki’s arm tighten through the fabric under my fingers. “He wants to show something - to fix my technique.” I didn’t ask permission, nor did I think I had to. 

Loki was obviously not happy about it, but I didn’t really care. His lips were fractionally pressed together, and his eyes flashed dangerously at the shorter man behind me. I glared at him, stepping close to whisper in his ear. “Stop it. He’s my teacher. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Oliver led me out onto the floor, pulling me into hold. It felt weird, dancing with someone other than Loki, as I’d been dancing with him all night. And all Wednesday. Oliver and I danced a few easy steps, a natural turn, a reverse turn, then the whisk and chasse before I realised what was going on. My feet just did the steps without me thinking about it. Oliver started to speak in my ear.

“Ok, not bad.” His voice was lighter than Loki’s and I was struggling to hear him over the combination of music and ambient noise. “Now this time, try and use the whisk to propel you through the chasse. Like storing energy in a spring.” 

“Ok,” I said, a bit dubiously, and we went into the figures again. I bent my knees more than before, on the outside of Oliver’s right hip, made sure my frame was more or less intact, and shot myself forward, Oliver keeping pace easily. I could tell I had travelled further than before.

“Much better,” he said, as we continued dancing. “You get much more power that way, can you tell.” I nodded.

“Poweeeer,” I drawled in my best Jeremy Clarkson impression, and Oliver chuckled. We twirled and whirled for the rest of the dance, continuing to practice that whisk and chasse until the music stopped. I twirled away from Oliver, connected to him only by our interlinked hands, and curtsied. It seemed like the thing to do.

“Thanks,” I said as we walked to the edge of the floor.

“You’re getting better,” he replied with a smile. “Keep practicing.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I said, saluting with a grin of my own. “See you Sunday.”

I wandered back around the floor, to where I’d left Loki. When I got to our spot, Emma was still there, but Loki had vanished. I quirked an eyebrow at my teacher in silent question.

“Oh, Sarah nabbed him,” Emma said, jerking her head out to the dance floor. Loki was quickstepping with Oliver’s partner. I watched them for a minute, jealousy unmistakably growing in the pit of my stomach. Sarah was beautiful. Her blonde hair was down tonight, cascading down her back in golden waves, and she was wearing a stunning green dress that hugged every curve before widening into a proper ballroom skirt. I stared after them, hoping my reaction wasn’t as clearly visible to Emma as it was to me. It was almost startling, the strength of my jealousy. I very much wanted to go over and cut in. But that wouldn’t be polite. And not my place - after all, Loki looked quite content, dancing with Sarah. Who wouldn’t?

“Enjoy your dance with Oliver?” Emma asked, jerking me out of my reverie. 

“What? Oh, yes, of course,” I said, pulling my attention away from Loki and Sarah. “It’s weird though.”

“Weird?”

“Dancing with…” I lost my train of thought, then returned to it, coming up with a way to phrase it that didn’t seem completely odd. “I’m not used to it, you know,” I said, arms gesticulating uselessly in front of me. “Actually having a partner, someone you dance with a lot. I’m getting used to it - to him, and it feels weird to dance with someone else, even with Oliver.” I glanced at Emma, who was smiling tolerantly at me. “That’s normal, right?”

“It’s normal,” she agreed, “Although some partnerships take longer to settle in than others. But you and Loki seem to be quick studies.” I glanced out at Loki, who still had his arm wrapped around Sarah. I made a face. Whatever else Loki might be, he wasn’t a quick study. I stepped on the jealousy firmly. I wasn’t going to be that girl, I informed myself firmly. 

Still, it seemed to take an absurdly long time for the music to stop and for Loki to hand Sarah back to Oliver and find his way over to where Emma and I still stood, watching the dancers flash past. 

“Tessa?” Henry, a friend from ballroom club, had come up by Emma, behind the column she was leaning on. 

“Hi,” I said, keeping track of Loki as he made his way towards us. 

“Want to dance?” he asked, holding out a hand just as Loki was close enough to hear. 

“No, thank you,” I said, glancing back at Loki. Henry followed my gaze. 

“Ah. Maybe next time.” He stood a little straighter. Then he turned to Emma. “Would you like to dance?” 

Emma took his hand. “I’d be delighted, young man.” I watched them go and felt Loki come to stand right next to me, just too close to be casual.

“Did he teach you something?” Loki asked. I still didn’t look at him, looking out onto the couples. Sarah and Oliver were dancing together now, putting all the other couples on the floor to shame as they swung and swayed. 

“He did. Did she?” The response was out of my mouth before I could censor it, although I managed, just barely, to modulate my tone. I turned so I could see Loki’s reaction. He had that damned smirk on his face, of course, and I felt my gaze drawn down to my shoes, hidden by my enormous skirt. 20 seconds of courage, I told myself. 

“Do you want to see if anything stuck?” I asked, holding out my hand. I thought I saw Loki’s eyes soften, and he put his hand in mine.

“Indeed.”

 

 

We sat in the back of the car, outside my front door, in silence.

“I had a wonderful time,” I said finally, just so I had something, anything to say.

“I did as well,” Loki replied. We’d danced together the rest of the night, only stopping for me to grab water. When the ball ended, we’d ducked back into the car and now, well, I didn’t quite know what to do. I glanced over, and Loki was looking at me. 

I stared back, losing all thought as my eyes traced the outline of his face, his nose, his cheekbones, his mouth. Loki slid closer, taking one of my hands. He’d been touching me all night, dancing with me, putting a hand at the small of my back while we talked with friends, but this was different. I shivered when he took my hand in his.

I watched as he brushed his lips against my knuckles, eyes never leaving mine. He leaned closer, and I forgot to breathe as his arm stretched out and-

Opened the car door behind me. I almost fell out in surprise, having been leaning on the door. Loki saved me with a quick arm around my waist, and suddenly he was almost wrapped around me, face dizzyingly close to mine. And then the moment passed. Loki sat back in his seat, allowing me space to exit the car.

I was about to close the door when Loki stepped out after me. “I believe it is customary to escort one’s date to the door,” he said, replying to my unspoken question.  

“Oh.” We walked the few steps to the door, and I fumbled in my purse for the key. I finally found the damn thing and turned it in the lock, turning to go inside, but something made me stop. I paused, halfway across the threshold, and looked back at Loki. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said, a bit lamely. All of my witty retorts vanished when I saw his face. He looked very uncertain.

He managed a half a smile. “I would have been insulted had you asked anyone else,” he replied, and stepped closer. 

I wasn’t sure what to do - my dating history was sparse, to say the least, and I knew there was something I should be doing, either kissing him myself, or asking him up, although my brain kind of fried considering him, Anton, Ginny, and me watching TV together. My thoughts continued to tangle, trying to figure out a course of action until Loki leaned the few inches forward and kissed me himself.

His lips were cool on mine, moving expertly, and I leaned closer, threading my hands through his hair like I’d been dying to do all evening. His hands were on my back, pulling me close. He sucked on my bottom lip and I gasped in surprise, fire running through my veins. 

He must have taken the gasp for rejection, because suddenly he was pulling away, holding my upper arms in his hands to look at my face. I grinned up at him, at the worried, doubtful expression on his face, and had just enough time to see his shocked delight before I pulled him down for another kiss.


	16. I Adore You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tessa head to Forbidden Planet..

“No, Loki, we cannot start making out in the Tube!” I whispered, a certain someone’s arm tight around my waist, his lips working their way from my neck to my jaw.

“Cannot or will not?” he said between kisses. “It seems as if I’m doing a fine job to me.”

“Will not!” I tried to push him away with a hand on his chest and succeeded, briefly. Loki was looking confused. And rejected. Which meant I’d have to explain. “It’s not… I mean, I’m not…” I tried. I looked up at Loki, his green eyes steadying me. “You know I’m awfully fond of you, right?” I asked. It was the closest I dared to saying ‘I love you.’ One week’s worth of dating was way too soon to drop that particular bomb.

He grinned. “I believe you may have mentioned that once or twice.” His grip tightened ever so slightly around my waist. I put my arms around his waist, placing my head neatly on his collarbone. Or where his collarbone would be, if he weren’t wearing a jacket. 

“Well, and bearing the fact that I am, in fact, exceedingly fond of you, consider this.” The Tube pulled up at Goodge Street, and I waited for people to brush past us, getting on and off the train, before I continued. “People tend to - I tended to, for that matter - find it uncomfortable when a couple displays too much affection in public.”

“And you don’t want to make other people uncomfortable?” Loki asked. I looked up, and, sure enough, there was that snarky grin. “Doesn’t sound like you, darling.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. He _was_ getting to know me well, after all. “You’re right, I guess,” I replied, “but I suppose I was thinking more of what my past self would think, if she could see me now.” _Other than ‘You lucky girl, good for you, now get yourselves a room already!’_ I thought. 

Loki sighed dramatically as the Tube rolled into Tottenham Court Road. “I suppose -“ he cut himself off. “This is our stop, isn’t it?” I nodded, grabbing his hand and towing him off the Tube. 

I still couldn’t quite believe it. Loki, the goofy, snarky, drop-dead gorgeous Asgardian, liked me. Was willing to let me man-handle (and that was definitely the right word for it) him around London. Seemed to enjoy kissing me very much indeed, as he did it at every opportunity. The mind boggled. And I was on my way to finding myself very much in love with the man. Even Anton and Ginny had come around, once they saw that Loki, in Anton’s words, ‘treated me like I was made of glass.’ It was like dipping into the ocean and going for a swim - the current caught me, and, although I could see the shore receding, I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

So Loki walked beside me as we exited the Tube station, and I could feel him wanting to put a hand behind the small of my back, leading me even though he had no idea where we were going. I’d kept the destination for our date secret. I reached over and took his hand. “Almost there,” I said, grinning in anticipation.

“You are going to be the death of me, Tessa,” he said as we passed a church. 

“I hope not,” I shot back, not particularly liking the image of Loki dead in front of me, but smiling anyway. He was so reassuringly alive and next to me. “After all, who else am I going to find who’s so much fun to dance with?”

“I don’t intend for you ever to have to find out,” Loki said firmly, and there was a ring of promise to his words. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ either, which I totally understood, but it was nice to be reminded that I wasn’t some one-night fling to him.

“Good,” I replied. We rounded a bend and I started to grin again. Ginny’s suggestion to bring Loki to Forbidden Planet had been absolutely inspired. Forbidden Planet was one of _the_ comic book shops in London, and I was going to enjoy showing Loki some of his ‘source material.’

 

 

 

“This is ludicrous,” Loki muttered, holding up an Avengers comic book and leafing through the pages. “My armour certainly doesn’t look like that.” He showed me a picture. Sure enough, that was the gold and green armour I was used to seeing, complete with horn helmet.

“You sure?” I asked with a grin. “I mean, I can’t help but say it’s a relief - the horns, really? - I thought for sure you were compensating for something.” I burst out laughing as Loki caught me and half-lifted me off my feet. 

“I assure you, my dear,” he said, voice low, making me shiver, “I have nothing to compensate for.”

“Promises, promises,” I managed to gasp as Loki put me down. 

“And I keep my promises,” Loki said, returning to the comic book.

“You certainly do,” I said, thinking back to Greenwich and the promise he’d made me there. I was sure, if I asked him, he’d leave. I gave a little snort of laughter. Not that I had any intention of doing so, of course. I watched him continue to read, eyes lingering fondly on his ever-so-slightly beaky nose, his lips. 

He noticed me staring, of course, and raised an eyebrow. I just shook my head, telling him I hadn’t been thinking of anything interesting. He put the comic back in its proper spot. “So what are your favourite comics?” he asked, gesturing at the row upon row of books.

“Black Widow,” I said, “And this one called Lazarus, although I’m not caught up on either.”

“Agent Romanov should be flattered,” Loki said drily. 

“But what I really come here for,” I continued, ignoring the snark, “Is there scifi collection.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Their books - I swear, Forbidden Planet has the most complete science fiction section of any bookstore in London.” I walked towards it automatically, continuing to talk as I went.

“In most bookstores, scifi is relegated to part of the store - the books tend to be lengthy, the series are enormously long, and not so many people want it. So series are truncated, and the selection is limited, to say the least.” 

“But here?” I grinned. “Here they only have scifi. Every single book you could ever wish for, in every series. It’s glorious. What?” Loki had a weird look on his face.

“You are simply adorable when you’re enthusiastic,” he said, leaning over to give me a quick kiss. I melted into him, as per usual. Those lips never got any less decadent, although I was more than willing to see if repeated exposure lessened their effect on me. I leaned after him when he pulled back, and he smiled smugly. I just made a face at him and turned to face the books.

We were by the Ds, and I ran my finger over the spines, searching for. 

“See these?” I asked, pulling out the first Daniel Leary book and handing it to Loki. “These are a series based on another series. Someone - I can’t remember who - wrote a historical fiction series based on the naval section of the Napoleonic War. And then David Drake started writing a science fiction version, basically. Or at least, he based the relationship of his two main characters off the relationship of the other author’s main characters.” I stopped, making sure what I’d said had made sense. 

“Miss,” came a very deep voice from behind me. “I must ask you to step away from my brother.” I turned and saw Loki glaring at a man even taller than he was. The man was blonde, and built like an ox. 

“Thor.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where it gets complicated (because a romance with a Norse God wasn't complicated already)...
> 
> so, and consider this your first warning - it gets really dark, angsty and feely in the chapters ahead. Proceed with caution!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy!


	17. Ace in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out why Thor is here.

“Thor.” I was the one that said it, as I took the two steps to stand right next to Loki, moving towards him rather than away. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure.”  
“Miss,” he said warningly.  
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with?” I said, horribly misquoting with a harsh smile.  
“You don’t, actually,” another man said. He was about my height, with dark hair and a ridiculous-looking soul patch. His eyes flicked every which way, not pausing on any one thing for too long. “Are you sure doing this in a public place is the best idea, Hermes? I mean, they are only nerds, but-”  
“Tony Stark.” I was standing with Loki, in front of Thor and Tony Stark. This was more than slightly insane. Then I realised Loki hadn’t spoken, or moved, for that matter, since I’d seen his brother. I put a hand on his arm cautiously. “Loki?”  
He just turned his head to look at me, face cold, eyes unreadable. Oh no. He didn’t get to do that now. I didn’t have time for him to go all needy-sibling on me. I tightened my grip on his arm. “I hate to say it, hon,” I told Loki, “But the billionaire playboy philanthropist is right. We may want to do this somewhere else.” I glanced around, and sure enough, people were already casting suspicious glances at us. I shook my head. “This might be the only place in London where people would actually recognise the three of you.”  
Stark had raised his eyebrows at my term of endearment. He nodded at me. Loki still hadn’t moved. Dear God. Now I got to play Mom. “Loki, please.” His face finally softened into a real expression. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Let them say their piece, and we can go on with our day.”  
“Fine.” He was still completely angry, I could tell, but he wasn’t frozen with it as he had been before. “But they go first. I’m not walking with them at our backs.”  
“You heard him,” I said to the men. “Off you go.” They looked at each other. I wanted to bash all of their heads together. “Idiots.” Now all of them were looking at me. “Swear to not hurt each other while we’re walking the streets of London.”  
“I swear,” Loki said.   
“So do I,” Thor said, solemnly. I glared at the inventor.   
“Sure, I guess.”  
“Swear on Pepper’s life,” I snapped. He was the most likely to break the oath, I knew. He glared right back.  
“That’s not safe, whatever your name is, threatening my girlfriend.”  
“I’m not threatening her,” I replied calmly, wondering why I wasn’t more scared. Because Tony was scary. If I hurt Pepper, he would kill me, I was sure. “Unless you decide to do something stupid, like trying to attack Loki in the middle of Trafalgar Square, which, might I add, is always filled with tourists.”  
All malice vanished suddenly, and Stark was grinning at me again. “Ok, ok fine. I swear on Pepper’s life not to try and kill Sceptre-boy here unless he tries to kill me first. Fair enough?”  
I nodded. “Fair enough.”  
“I like you, Red,” he said, leering at me just slightly. “You’ve got spunk.” Loki actually growled, low in his chest. I rolled my eyes. Jealous again.   
“I’m also taken,” I said, as Thor started walking out of the store. Finally. Tony also walked in front of us as we all started moving.  
“You’re a lucky man, Reindeer Games,” he said.   
“I am,” Loki said shortly. I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he was having none of it. 

Trying to walk four abreast in London was never possible in London, let alone in the heart of the city and when one of your number was built like a tank. So I walked with Loki, Stark and Thor trailing behind. I took us to Trafalgar Square and found a bench.  
“Here?” Stark asked as I sank onto the bench, trying to turn the whole thing into a discussion between seated people. No dice. Everyone else remained standing.   
“Here,” I confirmed. As predicted, there were people milling around all over the place, not to mention the traffic and the people headed for the National Gallery. “No one can hear us. If they can, they won’t take us seriously. And all of this obvious collateral damage should prevent you all from going postal.” I leaned back on the bench, surveying the Square. “I like this part of London. Don’t wreck it.” Stark came and sat down on the bench next to me.  
“What’s your name, anyway?” he asked.   
“Tessa Michaelson,” I replied, sticking out a hand, which he shook.   
“Tony Stark,” he replied with a shit-eating grin. “But you already knew that.”  
“So I did.” I glanced over to where Loki and Thor were standing, glaring at each other. Time to play Mom again. “Boys,” I called. They glanced in my direction. I gestured at the bench cornered up to us. “Sit.” I used my best ‘Steve, you’d better listen this time’ voice.   
To my surprise, it worked. Loki sat next to me, and Thor sat next to Stark. “Now,” I said, still feeling like a mother herding children. “Mind telling me why you two are here? And how you got here?”  
“For the how we got here, you’d need at least a PhD in astrophysics, another one in particle physics, and a very open mind,” Stark said.  
“Well, I’m one of three,” I said, then realised the innuendo as Stark’s grin broadened. Oops. “Simple version, please,” I said instead.  
“Simple version,” Stark said. God did that soul patch look ridiculous. I much preferred Robert Downey, Jr’s goatee. Much more stylish. “Ok, then. The simple version is that Frigga, your boy’s mama, has some real magical juice.” I felt Loki tense next to me, and I put a hand on his knee, whether to comfort him or restrain him, I wasn’t sure. “When she pushed Loki into this dimension, it seems she gave Heimdall access too.” My eyebrows raised.  
“I know,” the inventor said. “Pretty crazy. Now I can go visit other me.”  
“Pretty sure other you is an actor with just as screwy a past,” I commented drily. “Go on.”  
“Ok, so, it turns out Heimdall had access to these universes, and he didn’t know it. Until they started dying.” Oh crap.   
“Dying?”  
“The universes were experiencing Ragnarok,” Thor said gravely. Double crap. This couldn’t end well. “It is… exceedingly painful for someone to witness.”  
“No shit.” I could practically feel Loki’s tension washing over me in waves. He knew as well as I did that this wasn’t going to end well for us. “Why?”  
“Because of Loki,” Stark said, and raised a hand before I could yell at him. “Not because of anything he did - this time, at least. Because he’s in this world, and he should be in ours.”  
“But why is it affecting other worlds?” I asked. “If it’s only our two parallel universes.”  
“Ripple effect, or something,” Tony said, waving his hands. I had a feeling he didn’t really understand it either.   
“But why?” I asked again.   
“We do not know.” It was Thor’s turn to explain. “But if we do not get Loki back to our world, who knows what may happen. To your world and ours.”  
Triple crap. I was hoping it wasn’t something like that.   
“And if he doesn’t come back? Or if I come along?” I wanted the consequences very clear.  
“Ragnarok,” Thor repeated. “It is the…”  
“I know what it is.” I felt my head reeling, a thousand thoughts pulling me a thousand different directions. I stood up suddenly, and started to pace a few steps back and forth.   
Then I made the mistake of looking at Loki. He was looking at me, watching me walk, observing me like I was the only thing in the world. I stopped walking, looking back, feeling my heart shatter into a million pieces at what I was about to do to him. This was going to hurt. But better me and him than a universe, right?  
“Leave,” I told Tony and Thor. They looked at me blankly. “Leave. Now. Go somewhere where you can’t overhear. You can have him in a minute.” I almost lost it on that last sentence, but I held it together.   
They left, and I took a few steps forward, so I was standing right in front of Loki. I knew I had to start talking, but I couldn’t seem to make myself speak.   
“You want me to leave.” Loki said it.  
I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “No,” I said. This was important, that he knew how I felt, so he heard it at least once before he left. I opened my eyes again, and he was standing, towering over my like he usually did. I’d miss that. I’d miss how safe I felt around him, like nothing could get to me when he was there.  
“No,” I repeated. “What I want is for us to have a life here. To date, to get engaged, to get married. To have kids.” A tear started to roll down my cheek, but I wiped it away. I couldn’t look Loki in the eye anymore, so I focused on his scarf. Green, of course. “I want stolen kisses in the Tube, and introducing you to Mum, and taking you to Dad’s grave. I want fights, and makeup sex, and all of that.” I looked at him, making myself meet his eyes. His eyes were shining as I met them. “I love you, Loki. I don’t care if it’s too soon, or if you don’t feel it back, but I need you to hear it before you leave.”  
He bent down and kissed me, urgently, desperately. One hand threaded itself into my hair, the other was on the small of my back, pulling me into him. My hands smoothed over his back, trying to pull him closer to me as well, if that were even possible. When I was starting to grey out, he pulled back, eyes dark. “What if I won’t leave?” he asked. “What if I want to meet your mother? Wake up to you every morning? What if I love you too?”   
I should have been over the moon, that he loved me. Instead, I smiled glumly. “You have to, love,” I said, stroking his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned against my hand.   
“Why?” he whispered. “Let the other worlds burn.” I felt a sob rising in my throat, and bit my lip to force it down.   
“Because I ask you to,” I said, another tear sliding down my cheek. “Remember?”  
“No.” His eyes grew wide. “No, Tessa, love, please.”  
“Two people’s happiness isn’t worth countless universes,” I said. “I love you, Loki. Please, go with your brother.”   
His arms tightened around me. “I won’t do it,” he said almost desperately. “There is nothing for me there.”  
“There’s nothing for you here, either,” I said, still stroking his cheek absently.   
“Except you,” he retorted angrily.  
“Except me,” I said. “And think, Loki. Would I be happy, knowing we were dooming everyone to die just so we could be happy for a few weeks?”  
He closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and gave me the saddest smile I’d seen from him. “No, it would torture you, wouldn’t it?” I bridged the distance between us, not that it had been vast to begin with, and hugged him tight.   
“I love you, Loki,” I repeated. I couldn’t seem to stop saying it, now I’d started.   
“And I love you,” he said, kissing my hair. I sighed.  
“Could I ask you to do something for me?”  
“Anything.” I pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye.  
“Promise me you won’t hate Thor for this?” He looked confused. “It’s not his fault. It’s not Frigga’s fault either.” I tightened my grip on him. “I… I’d just rather you didn’t go all supervillain again. Not on my account. I’m not worth it.”  
“You are,” he said, kissing me again until I couldn’t breathe. “You are worth it, Tessa. But, for your sake, I swear. I swear not to hold your absence against my family.”  
“In that case,” I said, trying again not to burst out crying. “I, Tessa Michaelson.” Loki, knowing what I was about to say, kissed me again, shutting me up. He kissed me softly, sweetly, as if we had all the time in the world. My mind fogged, and I kissed him back, memorizing the contours of his face with my fingers. He pulled away, and I put a finger over his lips. He kissed it. I laughed, which turned into a sob mid-giggle.  
“I, Tessa Michaelson,” I said again, and, even though I saw Loki’s face contort in pain, I kept talking. “Ask you, Loki, to leave with your brother, and return to your world, never to look for me again. Leave, and live well. Love well, and have a wonderful life.” Another tear streaked down my face, and I knew I was moments away from breaking down. “I love you.”  
“Impossible girl,” he muttered, pulling me into him again for another - a last - hug. “I love you, Tessa Michaelson.” Then he let me go and strode over to his brother. They conferred a moment, and Loki looked back at me. I saw Thor out of the corner of my eye raising a hand, but I only had eyes for the green-eyed man. Then, without fanfare, they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry guys!!!
> 
> Let the angst begin... I promise, this isn't the end, and Tessa will see Loki again, but other things have to happen first.


	18. At Long Last Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa is in Trafalgar Square, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SOO sorry for not posting the last week and a half!!! Life kind of got crazy for a bit there.  
> But I'm back, and I'll be posting the next chapters as soon as I get them done, so expect this one today, one tomorrow, and, if I'm really good, one the day after as well. Then it's back to bi-weekly updates.
> 
> Also, to dispel any doubt, Tessa is not going to go all Bella Swan and descend into an endless pit of despair. (I know, I'm mixing my references. But whatever.) However, she is going to wallow a bit, because, well, she deserves to. But she's not going to kill herself over this. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments!

I realised that I was crying in the middle of Trafalgar Square, and if there had been a single iota of brainpower that wasn’t occupied with grieving the loss of Loki, I would have at least had the grace to feel embarrassed. Instead, I put my bag on my lap - I had the presence of mind to keep it safe so I could get home, at least - and bawled my eyes out. My shoulders shook with my sobs, as silent as I could keep them, my chest, my heart literally hurt, and I wondered how I could have been quite so stupid. 

I knew better. That was what really threw me for a loop. I’d seen first hand what happened when you fell in love with Mum and Dad. She’d fallen, he’d fallen, then he’d died. And Mum had never been the same since. Even now, over ten years later, she’d never even looked at anyone else. She smiled rarely, and laughed even less. I’d promised myself I’d never let anyone hurt me that way, and now I’d gone and done exactly the same thing.

I’d fallen in love, and he’d vanished on me. I’d been caught up in the smiles, in the laughter, in the kisses, and I’d forgotten to think about what would happen when it ended. At least he was still alive, I thought a bit hysterically. I’d never see him again - I could never see him again, for fear of causing an apocalypse, for Heaven’s sake - but he was alive, somewhere, still breathing. I supposed that was something.

But oh how I missed him already. My tears had been calming down, but as I thought of him, they started up again, flooding down my face. I suddenly couldn’t quite breathe right, and my chest spasmed with pain. I pictured him, not able to help myself. The dancing green eyes, the sideways grin, the way he looked in a suit. The way he had of always keeping a hand on me, even before we’d kissed - a hand to the elbow, a hand on the small of my back. The way we’d danced together, perfect even in its technical imperfections, the feel of his body pressed to mine. Oh god, the feel of his lips against mine, his lips exploring the column of my throat, making me shiver.

Never again.

I cried until I had no more tears to give, until my eyes were red and I had a blinding headache. I was almost glad of those lesser hurts when I finally stood. My chest was still aching as if I had the world’s worst heartburn. Tourists and passersby had given me a wide berth, no one wanting to disturb the crying girl, I figured. I wiped my eyes and began the journey home.

 

 

Of course people stared - my red face and running mascara would have made it obvious to anyone that I had been crying, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. _Behold the field of the fucks that I give_ , I thought. _Look and see that it is barren. No love here. Just a broken-hearted, stupid, moronic, idiotic girl. Nothing to see here._

Ginny looked up when I opened the door. I would have gone straight upstairs and locked myself in my room, but I knew my headache would ease if I drank some water, and it felt like a heard of rampaging water buffalo had taken up residence in my skull. 

“What happened?” she asked when she saw my face. I clutched the counter for support, restraining my sobs through sheer force of will.

“He had to leave,” I said, voice raw. “Oh, Ginny, he’s gone!” Ginny gave me a hug, and I wept into her shoulder, starting to very much hate the weakness I was showing, but not able to help myself just yet.

“I’ll kill him,” she muttered. “That son of a bitch. I’ll cut of his balls and feed them to him.”

“No. Nonono,” I said desperately. “It wasn’t his fault! He had to go.” Ginny looked skeptical. “Really Ginny.” I couldn’t have her thinking badly of him. I just couldn’t. “Thor and Tony Stark showed up at Forbidden Planet - I know,” I said, reading the shock on her face. “Stark had this stupid soul patch on his chin - RDJ is so much cooler. Anyway. Apparently Frigga made a mistake when she sent Loki here,” My voice broke when I said his name, but I carried on. “The other parallel universes started dying, Gin. Because he was in the wrong world. So he had to leave. Otherwise, well, Raganarok.”

“So he had to go back or risk the end of the world?”

I nodded. “And he didn’t want to go,” I whispered. “He wanted to stay, with me. But I made him leave!”

“I made him leave,” I repeated, more quietly. “I love him. He loved me, and the universe just couldn’t resist meddling.”

“Tess?” Ginny asked. She sounded uncertain. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but could Thor and Stark - I can’t believe I’m saying that - be lying? Maybe they just wanted Loki back.”

My stomach twisted. I’d just believed them. Could they have been lying? 

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Thor looked and sounded convincing.” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. It was part of the promise he made me in the beginning, the reason he left. He promised to leave, and to not bother me again.” I finally got my glass of water and downed half of it in seconds. 

“Can I…” I started again. “I think I need to be sad for a while,” I said, voice very small, and resolutely not wavering. “Do you mind?” Ginny put her arms around me.

“Of course not, honey. Anton and I, we’re here for you. Whatever you need.” 


	19. Down In The Depths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More feels...

It was impossible not to feel alone in the days that followed. Even wedged between Ginny and Anton on the sofa, or helping a customer find a book at the shop, or going to Oxford Circus to try some retail therapy and being actually buffeted by the number of people on the streets, I felt alone. I was some island that no one could touch, always surrounded by an invisible shield. 

I was coping fairly well, though. Most of my brain was kept busy most of the time. I was either writing, which I seemed to do a lot of most days, practically falling asleep at my laptop most nights. The first few days I’d stared at the thing for five minutes before touching it. It was a gift from Loki - a reminder that he’d been real, and I hadn’t been able to make myself forget. But I was doing better. 

Sure, I cried myself to sleep most nights I didn’t fall asleep at my laptop, but Ginny didn’t know about those. And I still had issues forming an actual smile, one that wasn’t plastered onto my face like some bizarre version of the Joker. But mostly, I was doing better. Life went on.

The only problem, if you wanted to call it that, were my dreams. My bloody imagination was going haywire, and even though I was able, just, to keep it under control while I was awake, when I was asleep it went crazy. I saw Loki every night when I closed my eyes. Most nights, he was as I remembered him, sarcastic, smiling, dancing with me. I watched us dance at the ball. I felt him kiss me once more, remembered the feel of his body against mine as if he were there still. Some nights, though, he was different. He was the Loki of nightmares. He laughed at me when I greeted him, mocking me and my affections. He would smile his humourless smile and kill Ginny, then Anton. I usually woke up screaming just as he turned his magic on Steve. 

But those dreams were getting less frequent as well. Only two nights ago, I’d actually slept through the night without dreaming at all. Granted, that was the night I’d fallen asleep literally at my desk, with my cheek pressed to the keyboard, getting only about four hours of sleep before my alarm rang. It was an improvement, though, and I’d take what I could get. 

I wore my father’s dog tags all the time now, never taking them off, even to take a shower or to go to sleep. They grounded me, even though I wished I had the round ones Loki had shown me months earlier in Greenwich as well. They’d be another reminder of the second man I’d loved and lost. I grinned wryly every time I thought that. I was starting to sound like a the heroine in the second act of a romantic comedy. Which was ridiculous for oh so many reasons. First of all that I was no heroine. Second of all, and most importantly, there was no third act for me. Loki wouldn’t magically sweep in and save the day. No, he was gone, he was never coming back, and I was just going to have to learn how to get on without him again.

There had been life without Loki, wonderful, flawed, messy, glorious life before Loki. And there would be life without him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I accidentally posted chapters out of order the first time... I think I fixed it, but if something doesn't make sense, please let me know!! Thanks!


	20. Live and Let Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on...

 

“Yeah, yeah, fine, Mum. I’ll come next weekend. How does that sound?” 

Mum sighed. Again. We were trying to negotiate my semi-annual pilgrimage down to my grandparents’ house in Cornwall, but finding the time hadn’t exactly been easy, what with my general reluctance to deal with my very old-fashioned family who didn’t approve of a single girl living on her own in London, and my actually busy schedule. I’d had so much to do recently that two Saturdays from now was to be the first day off I would have in months. 

“Fine, dear,” she said. “You know Grandma and Grandpa will be delighted to see you.”

“Delighted to see I’m in one piece, you mean. Steve!” Steve yanked on his leash, trying to get to the Dalmatian that I’d only just seen come around a corner.

“Steve?” Mum asked. 

“Bad dog,” I told the German Shepherd, and he stopped trying to pull my arm out of its socket. “Steve, Mum, you remember. My dog?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” This wasn’t the first time I’d had to remind Mum about Steve. Or the fact that I worked at a bookshop. It wasn’t that she didn’t care - actually, it was that she didn’t care. She hadn’t cared about anything much since Dad died. I just sighed inaudibly and continued walking home. At least I wasn’t going down that road. I kept track of her, and Ginny and Anton. And Vicky at work. And my half-dozen author friends online. I tried hard most days to not think about Loki. He was gone, and I was trying to get on with my life. Why, just last week I’d gone out for drinks with Anton and Ginny, and I’d had a lovely time. Life went on, even when it didn’t go as planned.

“Tessa?” I’d zoned out.

“Sorry, Mum, what did you say?”

“I was asking if you were planning on bringing anyone to Cornwall with you,” Mum said. 

“Just myself,” I said. 

“We worry about you, Tessa,” Mum started on her regular guilt trip. “All alone in the big city.”

“I’m not alone, as you well know,” I said, trying to forestall the big lecture. I knew it by heart anyway. “I live with Anton and Ginny, and I’m very happy here.”

“If you insist,” Mum said grudgingly. 

“Listen, I’m almost home. I’ll send you my train times when I’ve bought tickets.”

“All right. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, Mum,” I said, and the line went dead. “Love you too.” I grimaced. That weekend was going to be oh so much fun. 

I let Steve off the leash as I opened the building door. The other tenants knew Steve, and he knew them as well as his own way to the flat. He scampered off, dashing up the flight of stairs with more gusto than I possessed just then. Then I heard a bang and a whimper, and I sprinted my way up the remaining flight and a half of steps. 

Steve was lying in front of the flat door, in a pool of his own blood. My heart stopped as I ran forward, heedless of the possible danger. I knew there was probably some, but I didn’t care because Steve was hurt. Steve, my dog, my other heart, the closest thing I currently had to a child, was hurt, and I had to help fix him. 

There was a hole in his side, seeping blood, and I put a hand over it, applying pressure as Steve whimpered. “It’s ok, honey, it’s ok,” I said, desperately trying not to cry. With my free hand I reached for my phone, preparing to dial 999.

“Tessa Michaelson?” I jerked my head up reflexively and saw a man all in black standing in the open door of my flat. Wait - open? Had Steve interrupted a robbery? Dear lord. I froze, seeing the submachine gun in the man’s hand. 

“You’ll have to come with us,” he said. 

“But-“ I said, looking back at Steve. “Steve.” A tear streaked down my cheek as I struggled not to freak out completely. I needed my mind clear. A hand grabbed my elbow and dragged me away from Steve. I screamed, desperate for someone, anyone to hear me. Then all my air vanished as a fist materialised in my stomach. I coughed, eyes spilling out the tears they’d had ready for Steve as pain blossomed in my stomach and I gasped for air. 

“Be quiet, or I’ll put a bullet in you,” the man said, and I realised he sounded German. 

“Where are you taking me?” I gasped, but in a whisper.

“Nowhere in this world,” the man said, and my heart sped even faster. “Hail Hydra.” Then he pushed something cold and metal to my neck, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say sorry for the cliffhanger, but.... I'm not sorry. :)
> 
> Also, warning: This is where it gets dark. Mature themes, graphic torture, killing and other things. So, if you don't like that stuff, stop reading now. You have been warned, and I'll be updating tags as I go.   
> If you see any that I should add that I missed, please tell me! I have no desire to trigger anyone, so let me know!!!
> 
> Last of all, all my stories have a happy ending. Rest assured, whatever I put Loki and Tessa through, this is not Sherlock or Dr. Who, and I am not Moffat. My characters will get an ending.


	21. Absinthe Drip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa wakes up in a cell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to update. I got sick, AGAIN, and this chapter has been tricky...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> Also, WARNING! This is not light and fluffy. I'm updating the tags accordingly, but if you're triggered easily, read with caution. (Also, if I need to update my tags/archive warnings, please let me know!)

I woke up instantly, my eyes snapping open as I shivered. It was cold, where I was, a barren little cell with concrete walls. I shivered again, realising quite how cold the air was on my skin, meeting resistance as I tried to move my hands. I glanced down, and physically bit down a scream, teeth mashing into my lower lip. I was shackled to the bench I had been sitting sleeping at, hands and feet encircled with harsh metal. The chains linked so I’d have a few feet of movement, but not many. I felt the panic building in my chest, fast and furious, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream - this wasn’t real life. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands together, shuddering as I heard the clank of the chains when I moved my hands. I pinched the web of my right thumb in faint hope, wincing as I felt the bite of my fingernail. So it was real, then. I put my feet up on the bench, curling up in a ball, fighting to keep from screaming in panic once again when I heard and felt the chains. 

First step - don’t freak out. 

I drew in a deep breath, counting to five before I released it for another count of five. When I’d been breathing for twenty counts of five and my pulse had ceased to pound in my ears quite so badly, I opened my eyes again. Nope, bad idea. My pulse raced as I saw the stark reality of the blank concrete and I snapped my eyes shut again, resuming my breathing and counting.

One hundred counts later, I tried thinking instead. Eyes still closed, I thought back to the last thing I remembered. What had happened? I’d been talking to Mum, arguing about the trip to - Steve….

I saw Steve, blood starting to pool beneath him, in front of my open doorway where a man stood, clad all in black, holding a gun. My heart skyrocketed once again, and tears spilled from my eyes as I worried about Steve. Surely he was dead. No animal could lose that much blood without immediate medical attention and survive. And I hadn’t been able to get him that attention. World’s worst dog owner. 

“Steve,” I said, voice rasping, and I suddenly remembered more as my throat rasped in pain. I’d screamed and cried when I’d first awoken, as I was being dragged through seemingly endless corridors. It had been somehow scarier when the black-clad men hadn’t told me to be quiet, just let me scream and cry, and desperately try to escape. And I’d tried. I’d tried to escape their grips, to no avail, almost pulling my shoulder out of its socket trying to dislodge one of the men’s grip on my upper arm. 

So now I was left with those bruises too. Still without opening my eyes, I tried to take inventory of my injuries, moving and stretching slowly. My wrists and ankles were sore, probably from the shackles. My right shoulder hurt like hell, and it felt like my entire body was one big low-level bruise. But as far as I could tell, there weren’t any major injuries, no internal injuries, no broken ribs. No concussion. Although it was practically impossible to self-diagnose a concussion. 

“So you’re awake,” someone said, and my eyes snapped open. A big man stood in the centre of the room, towering over me. I slid my feet down onto the floor, but didn’t stand. I didn’t want to get hit for nothing, and I had absolutely no doubt that man would hit me at the slightest provocation. My pulse skyrocketed, heart hammering in my throat.

I nodded.

“Your name is Tessa Michaelson?” His English was perfect. American and unaccented. His ice-blue eyes were cold when I met them for a fraction of a second, then let my gaze skitter away. I wasn’t terrified of the man, for some insane reason I wasn’t prepared to examine just then, but I figured it did me little harm to pretend otherwise.

“Yes,” I said, voice small, but steady. I carefully didn’t meet his eye. Everything about him screamed predator, and I wanted to give him as little reason to hurt me as possible.

“You know a man named Loki Odinson?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I snarked automatically, my brain-to-mouth filter having apparently vanished. The man backhanded me, casually, as if it was no effort for him whatsoever. For all of his ease, the blow knocked my head back into the concrete wall, my neck whiplashing to one side. I tried not to cry out, but the surprise as well as the pain shooting through my head let a moan escape my lips. 

“I never joke.” I would have laughed. The stone cold delivery was like something out of a bad action movie, but filled with menace. I shivered instead. Somehow I was having all of the rational physiological reactions - speeding heart rate, shivering, but I could think around the fear. What the hell was going on?“Do you know Loki?”

I nodded. “But he left.” I tried to say it as dispassionately as I could. It was a  fact. Nothing more. I certainly wasn’t going to show my heartbreak to this goon. So I tried something else. “Am I allowed to ask where I am?”

“Ask away, sweetie.” The man hit me this time. A blow to my bruised shoulder that made me cry out in pain and wonder whether or not he’d dislocated the thing. I got the message. Ask questions, get hurt. The man felt the need to tell me anyway. “Ask again, I hit you again. Are we clear?” I nodded. “Does he love you?”

I thought about that. He had, once. But now? Surely he hated me now, for making him go. It would fit with the rest of my currently crappy situation. “I can’t imagine he does,” I said.

“You’d better hope he still cares whether or not you live or die,” the man growled. I wondered what had made him suddenly so much angrier, and I shrank against the wall, a spike of fear ripping through my previously coherent thoughts. This man would kill me without a second thought. He’d probably enjoy it. “The only thing keeping you alive right now is that hurting you hurts him. So if he doesn’t care for you, you die.” I swallowed. “Care to change your answer?”

I shook. I didn’t shake my head, I trembled, from head to toe. It was hitting me what was going on. I was kidnapped, held against my will, locked in some tiny little concrete room, and some thug was tormenting me. I purposefully steered clear of the other “t” word, even in my thoughts. I wanted to fight, to snark, to do something to show my resistance, but I knew it was fruitless, and besides that, I was scared. I was scared, and I wasn’t sure what the right answer was. Was there even a right answer? 

So I took a bit longer than I would have usually done in answering the still-nameless man. “I know he loved me before he left,” I said, replaying the last look we’d shared before he, Stark, and Thor had vanished. “But I haven’t seen him since then.” My heart sped up even further, as I had a sudden thought. “I’m not in my own universe any more, am I?” The question came out before I’d even thought about it, and I cringed, expecting the blow.

It came, of course it came, this time another open-palmed slap that sent me reeling into the wall once again. I saw stars and hoped like hell I wasn’t going to get a concussion. The last thing I wanted just then was a brain operating at anything but peak capacity. But the blow was worth it, because at last, I gained some new information.

“Nope,” the man grinned evilly at me. “You’re not in your little universe anymore. You’re in ours.” I wasn’t quite sure how I was supposed to feel at the new information. Perhaps I was just too emotionally overloaded for the news to have any impact on me, but I felt nothing at the news that everything, everyone, I found familiar was suddenly gone. No extra sadness, or fear. Just an extra piece of information to use. I was in Loki’s home universe. But wouldn’t that just mean Ragnarok all over again? I knew better than to ask. Besides, it might be a bargaining chip I could use, and I didn’t want the man to have another excuse to kill me. 

The man was fishing about in the pocket of his pants, and pulled out a phone. “Smile, sweetheart,” he said, and the flash made me jump as he took a picture. “We’ll keep you alive,” he said, moving to leave the little box. “For now.”


	22. I Want to Go Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve finds a new way to deal with her capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for being late with this chapter again - My posting is caught up with my writing now, so I'm trying to get back to my writing schedule. There should be another chapter for you by Wednesday as well.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

I stayed curled into the bench after he left. After a while sitting there, purposefully not thinking about anything, I brought a hand up to my face. It came away red, and I explored further, still wincing every time my chains clanked. I both longed for a mirror and was grateful for its absence. I didn’t think I could both stay calm and examine my cuts and bruises. So I guessed. I thought I had a cut on my eyebrow or on my temple - something was seeping blood down the side of my face, anyway, and I definitely had a split lip. And I could feel the bruises forming from where Evil Thug Guy had hit me, starting at my temple and going all the way to my jaw. I was going to look like a PSA against domestic abuse, I thought with grim humour. Perhaps I should count myself lucky that the man hadn’t actually broken anything.

I just sat there, turning the day's events over in my head. I'd been, to put it frankly, kidnapped and tortured, and I might ultimately be responsible for the end of my world, this world, and every other world, assuming Evil Thug Guy was actually telling me the truth and not messing with my head. My life was going well.

I should be more freaked out. I knew I should be sobbing hysterically, or shaking uncontrollably, or semi-catatonic. Or something. Instead, I was able to control my emotions. They were there, the knot in my stomach, the shakes always under the surface, the fear, the hunger, the anger, the helplessness. But I could suppress them so that I could think. I knew it wasn't healthy, and I knew it wasn't practical for any length of time, but for now, I could do it, and I was grateful. I had my clarity, and I was going to use it.

Evil Thug Guy, and yes, I was totally calling him that until I knew his real name, came back once, a few hours later when I was actually starting to grow bored, bringing with him an energy bar and a glass of water. I’d run out of ways to be newly scared by then, and the concrete walls were only so interesting when I'd decided I hadn't a hope in hell of getting out that way. I'd need to find a different way to escape. I scurried for the food as soon as he'd left, chains clanking as I grabbed it. My stomach had been growling, much as I'd tried to control it, and I was getting the beginnings of the caffeine withdrawal headache from Hell. I reminded myself to eat slowly so I didn't throw up whatever food they did choose to give me, and retreated into my mind once again.

It was the place I'd found, my hideaway from reality. I'd decided to indulge myself, in the make-believe world I occupied, and made myself the perfect world.

_"Honey, I'm home," I called out, opening the front door to our place in Bloomsbury._

_"In the kitchen," Loki called. I kicked off my shoes at the door, placing them with the other shoes neatly and not-so-neatly stacked there, and padded down the hallway in stockinged feet. I rounded a corner and saw Loki, clad in a pale blue button down and grey slacks, standing at the stove with his back to me. I crept up behind him and slid my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back. I felt as much as heard him chuckle as he rested his free hand on top of mine where it sat on his waist._

_"Hello there," he said. "Good day at work?"_

_I pressed a kiss to his back, then released him just enough so I could turn him to face me. "Better now," I said, giving him a quick kiss. "How was your day?"_

_"Fine," he said, turning off the pan on the stove so he could put both hands around my waist. "Remind me why you feel the need to leave the house to work?" He kissed the corner of my jaw, just below my ear. "I do believe you can write anywhere." His kisses migrated down my throat as he spoke, and my hands fisted in his shirt as I gasped for air._

_"If I worked ... At home..." I managed, breaking off as he suckled at the point of my collarbone.  “Ah! I’d never get anything done." The last was said in a rush as I pulled his face up to mine again for a real kiss. I bit gently on his lower lip and was rewarded with a low groan as Loki used his grip on my waist to pull us even closer. We kissed until I was thoroughly winded and panting for air._

_"It is scarcely my fault you are so tempting," he breathed in my ear._

_“Not my fault you have the libido of a horny teenager,” I shot back, but I was smiling as I said it._

_“You weren’t complaining last night,” Loki said, voice even deeper as he whispered the words into my neck. I moaned, and he pushed me a few steps back and onto the counter, fingers sliding under my shirt to stroke bare skin as he kissed me again, long and deep._

“Miss Michaelson,” someone said, and my eyes jerked open. I wasn’t alone in my cell anymore. ‘Crap. I didn’t get to the good bit yet,’ I thought, examining the newcomer. He was a handsome man, with dark skin and jet black hair. His perfectly cut suit was a stark contrast to the shabby concrete cell. I guessed he was Indian, probably with some schooling in England, if the cut of the suit was anything to go by. He hadn’t asked a question, so I didn’t say anything. 

Was this going to be good cop to Evil Thug Guy’s bad cop? Were they really that unsubtle?But the thing about the ploy, I realised even as I recognised it, was that it still worked. I was much more likely to tell this man something, just because he hadn’t hit me yet and was wearing a suit. 

“I apologize for Anderson’s treatment,” Suitguy said, the proper British accent reminding me forcibly of home. He stepped closer, and I did my best to stay perfectly still as he ran a hand over the dried blood on my temple. Suitguy made a face. “He was, well, a bit upset. You see, two of his men did not make it back when his team was sent to obtain you.” 

I tried and failed to keep my face impassive. This was new information. First of all, there was a team sent to get me. I knew that, but it was nice to get confirmation. Second, that two men didn’t make it back. I understood Evil Thug Guy a bit more now, although I still planned on hurting him, if I ever had the chance. And the fact that I was getting the information at all was strange, to say the least. I could think of a few possible reasons why I was getting it, and I had no idea whether or not any of them were correct. For instance, Suitguy might just be an idiot. Unlikely, but possible.

Or he didn’t believe I could escape, which meant he didn’t mind giving me information, seeing as I wouldn’t need it. Or, most worrying of all, he wanted me to have the information. For reasons unknown. Such fun.

Suitguy had removed his hand from my face and was now standing before me again. “It occurs to me we have yet to be introduced. You are, in fact, Tessa Michaelson, are you not?” I nodded. There seemed little point in starting to lie now. Suitguy extended a hand. “I am Sunil Bakshi. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 


	23. Let's Be Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa finds out why Bakshi is here to see her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but here's the chapter - hope you enjoy! Full disclosure, it's not beta'd yet, but I wanted to post it, so my apologies for any errors.

I stared at the man’s hand for a second. To shake or not to shake, that was the question. I shook.

“I wish I could say the same, Mr. Bakshi,” I said with a sardonic half-smile. My voice was a little rusty - I hadn’t spoken for a few hours, and I was trying to make the water in the bottle they’d given me last, so I hadn’t drained it.

Bakshi gave me a small smile. I guessed it was supposed to be comforting, but  there was no warmth in his eyes. The man was a cobra, a politician - everything he said or did was checked three times to make sure it would have the effect he wanted. Bakshi let go of my hand.

“So, Tessa,” he continued. “May I call you Tessa?” I nodded. “You may be wondering why we brought you here.”

I nodded again. I _had_ been wondering why they were courting Ragnarok just to try and piss Loki off on the off-chance he still cared for me. 

“Well, my dear,” he said, and my skin crawled at the endearment. “We were rather curious to see what kind of woman would turn Loki Odinson’s head so severely that he has spent every waking hour since his return trying to return to her.”

_Idiot_ , I thought, a bit speechless. _I told him to forget about me. I guess he didn’t._ My hand went instinctively to the dog tags around my neck. 

“It seems,” Bakshi went on, not seeming to notice my reaction, “that neither of the brothers were able to get back to Asgard as planned.” He smiled, again, with no hint of it reaching his eyes. “You must understand, Tessa.” _I must what, now?_ I snarked in my head, inwardly rolling my eyes at the condescension in his tone. But the larger part of my brain was focused on the new scrap of information. _Loki’s here. In this world - we’re in the same universe again._ “We will have your cooperation in this matter, one way or the other.”

“And what matter might that be?” I asked. “I’m still not entirely clear on why I was taken in the first place.”

Bakshi pursed his lips. I wondered whether this indecision was simply an act. “Anderson told you nothing?”

 

“Nothing.” It wasn’t quite true, but I wanted to see what Bakshi would do with the half-truth. He sighed and gestured to the bench next to me. 

“May I?”

“Your cell,” I said, scooting over, chains clanking. I didn’t quite believe the man would wreck his doubtless very expensive suit by sitting down on the frankly filthy bench until he actually turned and sat.

“The gods have returned to Midgard,” Bakshi began, “and with them, they bring others - Others who are less friendly.” Bakshi’s face twisted into a grimace. “Not that the Asgardians are entirely friendly themselves. You are aware of the mess they created out of the city once known as New York?” _You’re stretching there, Bakshi. I know Loki didn’t destroy the whole city. But fine. I’ll play along._ I nodded. “Well, there are those that are far more powerful even than Loki and Thor.” That made sense. “All I and my organisation are trying to do, Tessa, is to safeguard the interests of humanity. By any means necessary.”

“So why me?”

“If we have you, Loki is more likely to work with us.” I worked as hard on keeping a straight face as I ever had in my life. _Like hell he will,_ I thought, _if he still cares for me even a little bit, he’ll bring this entire facility down around your ankles, Bakshi. I just hope I’m there to see it._ “So, Tessa,” Bakshi said. “Will you help us?”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked. It wasn’t agreement. And I doubted I would help anyway. Call me petty, but I didn’t exactly feel like helping the people who had killed my dog, kidnapped me, then had one of their thugs loosen me up before presenting the offer. 

Bakshi, however, just smiled as if I’d already accepted. “Not much, my dear.” He glanced down at me. “But perhaps you’d like to get out of those restraints?”

I was torn. On the one hand, I did want out of the shackles. It was mental as much as anything, the anguish those things cost me - the constant dragging, the clinking, the knowledge that they were there to stop me moving. And Bakshi hadn’t asked anything of me yet. And agreeing would give me a better chance of escape, I hoped. I’d just have to make sure that I wouldn’t be doing anything I couldn’t live with later.

After all, I could always say no, right? 

Right then, I made the decision, and I realised how much like Loki I actually was. I’d play along, go with their little game, and see if I couldn’t escape and trash their plan. But I did draw one line in the sand. I would never betray Loki or his brother. Ever. They’d have to kill me first. I extended my hands.

“Get them off me,” I said.


	24. Bad Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakshi moves Tessa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be violence ahead. You have been warned...

Bakshi left me after that. For hours. Some soldier in a balaclava dropped in briefly to throw another energy bar and a bottle of water at me. By that time, I’d found, rejected, then finally used, the bucket stashed under my bench. For that, more than anything else, I hated these people. I would Liam Neeson them all. I would find them, and I would kill them.

I continued in my fantasy world when I was left alone. This time we were in the living room of our house, sitting on our slightly-too-small-for-two-people love seat. I was practically sitting in Loki’s lap, with my legs thrown over the far side of the chair.

_“Do you have any ideas how to get out?” Loki asked. I’d filled him in on my current real life situation, and he was helping me deal with it. And yes, I was using a figment of my imagination to help me deal with reality. I did know how crazy that sounded._

_“Hmm?” I asked, having only half-heard the question. I’d been too busy playing with the French cuff of Loki’s sleeve._

_“Do you have any idea of how you are going to extricate yourself from the predicament you find yourself in?” he asked again, removing my hand from his custody and stroking my cheek. I leaned into the touch. His fingers were gentle, even though I could feel the callouses from long years of weapons training._

_“A few,” I admitted. I turned my head and kissed his palm. “I don’t think there’s much I can do from this cell. I don’t have magic, like you,” I poked his nose, and he grinned at me, “Or super-strength, or invulnerability, or anything like that. So I’ve got to wait until they let me out.” I made a face._

_“Reasonable,” Loki said. “And when they do let you out?”_

_“If they let me out, you mean?” I corrected. “Although you’re right, it did seem like Bakshi was going to move me eventually. But I don’t want to get my hopes up.” Loki shifted, putting both arms around me. I clung to him, pressing creases into his button-down._

_“I understand your impulse, my love,” he said in my ear. “But do not let your fear of disappointment stop you from planning your escape to the best of your ability. And when you must act, act without mercy. They will not show you any.”_

_I nodded into his shoulder. “Not that I can do much planning,” I said. “I think I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.”_

_“In that case,” Loki pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. I could see his intention just barely before he kissed me._

_I heard a clanking and a rattling. “Gotta go, love. I love you.”_

My eyes snapped open. The door pushed inward and Bakshi entered. Two men followed him, wearing black fatigues. I couldn’t see any firearms on them, but they had blackjacks stashed in hip holsters. I had no desire to find out what those could do to me any more than I wanted to find out what getting shot was like. 

“Mr. Bakshi,” I said. 

“Tessa,” he replied smoothly. One of the guards moved towards me, and I did my best not to flinch. He grabbed one of my arms, not harshly, but not gently. He touched me like you’d touch a doll, like I wasn’t quite human. My skin crawled. But then he was pulling out a set of keys and unlocking my manacle. He grabbed my other arm and repeated the process. When he moved on to my ankles, pulling me forward so I was barely balanced on the bench, to stop me from kicking him, I supposed, I examined my wrists. Even though I’d barely pulled at the restraints, they were still red and bruised. How I’d managed that combination, I had no idea. Perhaps I was allergic to that much metal? I rubbed the marks absently as the man moved from one ankle to the other.

“Thank you,” I told the man almost automatically when he stood up. He just looked at me blankly. _Well, if your mum didn’t teach you manners, it’s a bit late for me to do so, isn’t it,_ I thought sardonically. _Or is it just that you didn’t expect the doll to talk?_

“You’re being moved,” Bakshi said. He’d remained silent as my chains were removed, watching me and my reactions like a hawk. “Please, come with us.” I got to my feet slowly, not wanting any of my muscles to rebel. Not that I’d been chained up anywhere long enough for any muscle atrophy, but I didn’t want to fall over in front of these men. 

My quads burned at the sudden use, but I managed to take the few steps over to the men. “Protocol?” I asked Bakshi, ignoring the soldiers. _You treat me like a doll, I treat you like toys too,_ I thought.

“Walk between these two fellows, here,” he said. “We shall escort you where you need to go.” I nodded, and Bakshi turned on a heel and left the cell. One of the men grabbed my elbow and pulled me to follow. I allowed the manhandling, even though the bastard had almost pulled me over, because I could pay attention to my surroundings instead of my feet. 

My head wasn’t exactly on a swivel as we walked down a long concrete corridor, but I definitely tried to gather as much information as I could. Not that it was much. The hall was long, without labels, without signs of life. Just fluorescents overhead and a yellow line painted in the middle of the floor. At the third intersection, we turned right. Fortunately, Bakshi was leading, and I was able to follow his turn quickly enough so that the man with his hand still around my elbow didn’t pull me over again.

We were about twenty steps down the corridor when I saw it. The lights above us shook. The soldiers must have seen it as well, because the grip around my elbow tightened. Bakshi hadn’t noticed anything, I thought, because he just kept walking. Five steps later, and I heard a muffled ‘boom’. The fluorescents shook even more obviously. This time Bakshi noticed, and he pulled out a radio from his pocket.

“Status report,” he barked into the device. 

“Base under attack, Sir,” a voice crackled. “Orders?”

“Protocol H782,” Bakshi snapped. I could see his tension in the set of his shoulders, rising slightly higher in his suit jacket. He turned to me. Was I now an expendable asset? He glanced at the soldiers to either side of me. I was just as doomed here as in the cell, I thought. I didn’t have the training to deal with two soldiers, and who knew if Bakshi was armed. 

“We continue as planned,” Bakshi told the soldiers. His eyes met mine. “I’m afraid we’re moving up the timetable,” he said. “Our enemies are attacking the base. We’ll have to run, but don’t worry. We won’t allow harm to come to you.”

“Let’s go, then,” I said. I wanted Bakshi’s attention off me. If I was going to escape, this might possibly be my best chance. Bakshi set off at a jog, and the soldier relaxed his hand on my elbow just slightly. Well, he had to. I had to move my feet faster than he did, as he was a full head taller than I was. If he’d kept the same grip on me as before, we’d both have been hamstrung. We rounded a corner, turning right again, into a room filled with banks of servers. Something cracked, and whizzed past my left ear. I dropped automatically, the arm linked to the soldier’s flying to my damaged ear. He was turning at the same time, so his hand slipped from my elbow. 

Suddenly everything seemed to move in slow motion. My captor pulled a handgun from his combat vest. _So I was wrong about that,_ I thought absently. The hand that I’d clapped to an ear was already moving, though. I wrenched the blackjack out of his holster from below - I’d examined them as the man was undoing my shackles - and in almost the same movement, crashed the leaded stick into the back of the man’s knee. He dropped, and I smashed the thing into his face, covering his gunhand with mine and pushing that down into the ground. I was committed now. No wavering.

I looked to the other soldier, who was leaned against a server bank with one and a half arms. He wasn’t a threat, so I turned further, to where Bakshi was looking at me. He hadn’t been armed, I realised, and I now had a gun. I pulled the gun from the soldier’s hand and stood slowly, backing up just slightly. I didn’t know what I was doing with firearms, but I did know that if I were within 15 feet of Bakshi, he had just as good a chance of survival as I did. And that I was not willing to live with.

When I was more than five yards away from him, I stopped. 

“You won’t shoot me,” he said. I’d transferred the gun into my right hand. For an instant, I thought about laughing, but instead, I changed my point of aim. I’d been aiming for a knee, but I changed to centre of mass. I had no idea what kind of shot I was, but I wasn’t about to try and escape leaving Bakshi in any shape to pursue me. 

I used my other hand on the butt of the gun to steady myself, then pulled the trigger slowly. I’d read somewhere that was what you were supposed to do. Nothing happened. And nothing happened as the trigger inched farther back.

_Crack._

I jumped, and Bakshi screamed. His hands flew to his thigh, and he screamed again. And again. Blood started seeping from the wound and Bakshi’s face turned grey. I moved forward. I might not be a great person, but there was no reason for me to torture Bakshi. I tapped him on the side of the head with the blackjack, and his eyes rolled up into their sockets. He was out cold. I searched his pockets, finding the radio, which I grabbed. He didn’t have a wallet on him, unfortunately, although I did find an ID card, which I also pocketed. Thank God for jeans.

The soldier whose face I’d smashed didn’t have a wallet either. He did have an extra magazine or two, I found as I hurriedly searched his body.

“Freeze.” My head shot up in shock, and I was suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun.

“Well, well, well,” a woman’s voice said. “What do we have here?”


	25. Hush, Hush, Hush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve goes from one kind of imprisonment to another

“What do we have here?” All I could see was the barrel pointed straight between my eyes. Was it possible it was expanding? 

“Hey,” another voice, a man’s voice, said, more gently. “Look at her feet.” My feet were bare. They’d taken my shoes. 

“Drop the gun,” the woman’s voice said. I didn’t have much choice, did I? I released the gun, my stomach sinking with it. I was dead now. All that was left to decide was how long I would continue before my expiration date got stamped. _I’m sorry, love,_ I thought to Loki as I lowered the blackjack as well.

“She got Bakshi,” the man said. He’d moved behind me. 

“Dead?” the woman asked. My breath caught in my throat as I waited for the answer. 

“Not yet.” I exhaled suddenly, and I closed my eyes briefly. I was less mesmerised by the gun pointed at my head when I reopened my eyes, so I actually saw the woman in front of me. She was about my size, but curvy where I was straight up and down, with bright red hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. The guy behind me came to stand next to the redhead, and I saw him properly for the first time as well. Arms. It was the first thing I thought. His arms were very well developed indeed. And he had a bow strapped to his back.

“Black Widow and Hawkeye,” I breathed, finally putting two and two together. 

“How do you know us?” Romanov asked dangerously. Barton took one step closer, and I really wished I had a better, more plausible-sounding answer for them.

“Long story,” I said. “But I swear, I’m not a bad guy. Tony Stark should be able to vouch for me.” I grimaced. “I met him, once. And Thor.” I didn’t say Loki’s name. I knew what Loki had done to Barton. 

“On your feet,” Romanov ordered, taking a few steps back. I put my hands in the “I’m unarmed, please don’t shoot” position on either side of my head and rose slowly, muscles protesting every inch. Hawkeye came in with zipties and tied my hands together behind my back. 

“We can’t take your word for that, I’m afraid,” he said, patting me on the shoulder when it was done. 

“I understand,” I said. “Just, please, get me the hell out of here.” I trusted the pair immediately. After all, they were Avengers, weren’t they? Earth’s mightiest heroes. If I couldn’t trust them, who could I trust?

 

I walked after Agent Romanov through the corridors. Barton was behind me, guarding me and our backs. He was constantly on his radio, saying things so quickly and quietly I couldn’t make them out. Other people were hurrying around us, some medics, some soldiers, all purposefully in half-jogs. They were all apparently on the same team as Romanov and Barton, because we were allowed to roam unimpeded. I got a few looks, but nothing more than that as we stopped in a freight elevator. I half-remembered this place. I’d been screaming my head off as I’d come down here the first time. Now I was silent, and, I realised, looking down at my top, half-covered in blood. I wondered whose it was in an absent sort of way. Was it the soldier whom I’d killed? I had killed him, I was sure. He hadn’t been breathing as I’d searched him.

Was it the other soldier’s? He’d had his arm blown off at the elbow by something or other. Or was it Bakshi’s? I was starting to go into shock, I realised as I narrowly stopped a giggle from escaping my lips. The lift stopped and Romanov pulled the inside door open as the outside door dragged back. She walked forward and I followed, head turning one way, then the other. 

We were in a hangar, of sorts. There was debris everywhere, and one of the wall had a gaping hole in it big enough to drive a tank through. There were two helicopters, both still and silent, and more people in black combat gear than I could shake a stick at. I thought I had a handle on the situation. 

Then Captain America separated himself from a crowd of people behind one of the helicopters and strode over. “Natasha,” he said, giving her a perfunctory smile. He glanced at me, then back at her. “Who’s this?”

“We found her in the server room. She says she knows Stark. He’ll vouch for her.” Captain America’s very blue eyes bored into mine. 

“And your name is?” he asked.

“Tessa Michaelson,” I said. 

“Steve Rogers,” he said, and I felt the minute I broke. 

“Steve,” I murmured, and I shattered into a million pieces. I saw Steve, lying in front of my front door, covered with blood. I saw the soldier whose face I’d caved in. I saw Anderson, hand raised to hit me again. My pulse thundered in my ears, and it was getting hard to breathe. I was on my knees, fighting for air, fighting not to fall over with my hands still tied behind my back. My vision blurred with the tears I hadn’t had a chance to shed yet, and my mind kept dredging up image after image to show me.

Bakshi’s scream echoed in my ear. My hand, clasped around the blackjack, granting him unconsciousness. The soldier with half an arm. Loki’s face as he left. Mum’s face at Dad’s funeral. Dad’s face. Steve. Bakshi. Loki. Dad. Anderson. Loki. They flashed and flashed before my eyes as I tried to take in a normal breath. It felt like someone was sitting on my chest, preventing me from taking a deep breath, so I panted. I was hyperventilating, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t control…

Then someone cut the ziptie and my arms came forward. I hugged my middle as someone knelt before me, forcing my head up with a hand under my chin. I wheezed and wheezed and tried to make my eyes focus. 

“Breathe,” Barton said, eyes on mine. I focused on his eyes, on just his eyes, and tried to take a breath. “Breathe, kiddo. You can do it.” With a Herculean effort, I expelled all the air from my lungs and took as slow a breath as I could manage. “That’s it,” Barton said. “Again.” I breathed out slowly, then back in again. My vision was clearer, even through the tears. I must have started to grey out. I breathed as slowly as I could, staring into Barton’s eyes. He really did have remarkable irises, I thought absently. They were a kind of greenish grey that darkened almost to black at the pupils. Finally I closed my eyes and breathed on my own. I realised I had one hand clawed around Barton’s forearm, and I released it.

“Thank you,” I said, opening my eyes again and moving to stand. Barton stood with me, hand on one of my upper arms. I wasn’t sure any more if he was supporting me or restraining me. 

My ears switched back on to hear Captain America talking to Agent Romanov. “Answers out of her later. For now I want to get our people out and blow this place sky high.” Rogers’ eyes met mine as his head swivelled. “And contact Stark.”


	26. A Lady Needs A Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa gets moved to a safe house. There she meets... people.

“And contact Stark.”

 

“Contact Stark.” That’s what I kept hoping for, as I was escorted out of the warehouse, as I boarded some bizarre hybrid of plane and helicopter, as I stared at a bulkhead for a few hours before crashing into a sleep plagued by half-remembered dreams. 

“We’re here.” A hand was shaking my shoulder, and my eyes snapped open to find Barton looking down at me.

“Where’s here?”

“Sorry, but you don’t need to know,” he said, stepping back so I could stand. I understood. It didn’t mean I had to like it, though.

“Why are you being nice to me?” I asked instead. 

“It costs me nothing to believe you,” he said lightly, escorting me off the plane. 

I inhaled sharply as the cold, dry air hit my face. We were on a snow-covered plateau, and if I peered over its edge, I could see for miles. There were mountains everywhere - and snow! I didn’t think I’d ever seen so much snow in one place before. Agent Barton forgotten, I scampered down the ramp, the snow just inches from my bare toes. I dropped down to a knee and picked up a handful.

It was feather-light, this snow. Not like the horrible heavy stuff that caused London to shut down every few years. Most of it melted the second it touched my skin, the tiny little snowflakes evaporating and scattering as I breathed on them. 

“Never seen snow?” Barton chuckled, coming up next to me.

“Not like this,” I breathed. I spotted a log house in the middle distance, on the other side of the plateau. “How am I getting to the house?” I asked, looking down at my feet again. “I hope you don’t expect me to walk in bare feet.”

“And a thin shirt and leggings aren’t exactly winter appropriate either.” Another chuckle. “Be careful here,” Barton warned. “This cold isn’t like what you’re used to. By the time you’re really cold, it’s usually too late.”

I nodded, then spotted a dark shape coming towards us from the house. The shape split, and I realised it was in fact a pair of snowmobiles, zipping towards us. “Michaelson,” Barton said, and turned. He was holding out a pair of boots and a big parka. “Put these on.”

I complied, shoving the boots onto my already almost-frozen feet and shrugging into the giant jacket. Barton put a pair of sunglasses on me, and stood back.

“You look like a kid wearing her dad’s snow gear, but it’ll do,” he said.

“I aim to please,” I snarked back. I liked Hawkeye. He seemed to have a decent sense of humour. Which was a vast improvement from Black Widow and Captain America, who hadn’t shown any signs of any humour whatsoever.

“I still don’t see why…” The good Captain was speaking as he joined us in the hangar, but stopped when he saw me. Great. I had really been hoping to get Cap on my side.

“What?” Agent Romanov said, pushing past him. “He can handle it.” She glanced at me in my cold-weather gear and gave a small smile. “Suits you,” she said, grabbing sunglasses out of her own, much better-fitting, jacket and striding out into the cold. 

“She does that,” Barton said, watching the redhead go. 

“Huh?” That was me, ever-ready with an intelligent comment. 

“Natasha,” he said. “She’s a bit of a whirlwind. You get used to it.” There was real fondness on his face, and I smiled in recognition. I knew that look.

“Let’s head on out,” Cap said, following Romanov out into the snow. Barton and I, along with a few of the other agents on board the plane, followed.

 

The snowmobiles were just pulling up as I peered around Captain America’s shoulder. Both were driven by men, one with chin-length dark hair, one with a black skull-cap. Both were wearing sunglasses, and both were covered in cold-weather gear.

The man with the longer hair was first to arrive and nodded at Agent Romanov.

“Natalia,” he said shortly.

“Jasha,” she replied. He got off the snow-mobile and gave her a quick embrace, including kisses on both cheeks. Then he turned to Rogers. I felt Cap stiffen under the man’s gaze. 

“Good to see ya, punk,” the man said. The Eastern European inflection had vanished, replaced with some regional American dialect I didn’t recognise. Not that I was the best at accents anyway. 

Rogers relaxed. “You too, jerk,” he replied, striding forward to give the slightly smaller man a hug.

I felt when the Winter Soldier noticed me. He stiffened, and Rogers turned. 

“Who’s this?” he asked. “This her?”

Cap nodded. “Found her in a HYDRA base with two dead goons and a shot Dr. Bakshi.” I had killed them, then. I’d felt certain, but the confirmation still made my stomach drop. I was a killer. And yet, I was unaffected. They had been trying to kill me. But shouldn’t I feel something?

It didn’t matter. I had other things to attend to.

I took a step forward. “Tessa Michaelson,” I said, extending a hand in Barnes’ direction, who reached out and shook. 

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, grinning charmingly at me. The man really was a flirt, leaving his hand in mine slightly too long for innocence. Rogers must have thought so as well, because I saw him roll his eyes. I grinned.

“You never said she was a Brit,” the other snowmobiler said, joining the group. I turned, recognising home - the man was a Brit as well.

“Lance Hunter, at your service,” he said.

“Tessa Michaelson,” I said, smiling and shaking his proffered hand.

“So she’s staying with us until you decide what to do with her?”

Rogers nodded. “Stark isn’t answering his phone, so until he does, keep her here.” I laughed inwardly. Of course I was waiting for Tony Stark to deign to answer his phone. “Nat already talked with her,” Cap continued, and I looked down at the snow. That had been a fun conversation.

_“So you expect us to believe you’re from some parallel universe?” she’d asked as we were boarding the plane._

_I’d sighed. “It happens to be the truth. Take it or leave it.”_

_It was the Russian’s turn to sigh. “I thought I’d trained Tony not to keep secrets,” she muttered. She returned to a normal speaking volume. “Fine. I believe you. For now. But until we get confirmation from Stark, you’re staying at a safe house, ok?”_

_“Do I have much choice?”_

_She smiled humourlessly. “No.” Some of my trepidation must have showed on my face. “We don’t torture, though. We leave that to HYDRA.”_

_“Lucky me,” I muttered._

_She put a hand on my shoulder. “Assuming you are who you say you are, all we need to do is reach Stark. Then you can go home.”_

 

“So keep her here, and safe, until Stark decides to get off his ass and help?” Hunter asked.

Cap nodded. “Thank Coulson for me.”

“Will do.” Cap turned to me.

“Are you all right? Is there anything you need that we can get you?”

_Well, if you could get me the Norse God of Mischief, that’d be great,_ I wanted to say. Instead I just shook my head. “As long as this place has books and Internet,” I said. I didn’t answer his first question. I didn’t know the answer myself. 

“We’ll be in touch,” he said, and he gave me a smile. It was a gentle smile, a comforting one. _Seems the rumours are true,_ I thought bemusedly. _Seems Cap really is a good man. Nice to know there are more of them about._ “We have some more work to do for now, but we’ll keep trying to reach Stark. You shouldn’t be here for more than a week or so.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I said, smiling back. Cap went back to talking to Barnes, and I was left with Hunter.

“So you’re the girl from the ‘other world’,” he said. He used finger quotes on the last two words. 

“That’s me,” I agreed. 

“Do you know why they took you?” he asked.

“Do they need a reason?” I replied. 

“No,” he said, studying me. “But they usually have one.” He looked me up and down. “And I think you know what it is.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said. “Not now.” 

“We’ll get it out of you,” he warned. 

“I don’t doubt it,” I told him. “I can promise, however, that it has nothing to do with SHIELD. It’s … personal.”

“How do you know about SHIELD?” Hunter asked.

I smiled. “Movies, books, and comics, Mr. Hunter.” I grinned at his stunned expression. “Oh, and TV shows.”


	27. A Sight-Seeing Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter shows Tessa around...

“Not a bad view, is it?” Hunter shouted. I was clinging to his waist as we rocketed through the snow. I hadn’t quite realise how deep the snow was until the Quinjet, as apparently the plane/helicopter hybrid was called, lifted off and I saw the divots a metre and a half deep in the snow. And I was sure that if I fell off the snowmobile now, I wouldn’t find the landing exceptionally smooth. 

“Not bad,” I replied, shouting as well, trying in vain to cut through the sound of the petrol engine. Hunter was right, though it was a spectacular view. As far as the eye could see were mountains, invariably snow-covered, valleys, and nature. I’d never felt quite so cut off from the rest of humanity, and never quite so unbothered by the fact. I felt Hunter chuckle rather than hearing it. He said something, but I couldn’t hear it.

I hadn’t exactly chosen to accompany him instead of Barnes. On the contrary, it had just sort of happened. The Avengers and their friends had said their goodbyes, leaving me to the tender mercies of Hunter and Barnes, who had swung onto his transport with a cheery “See you back at the house” to us both.

So I’d sat behind Hunter, and my tentative grip on his waist had definitely become more of a death grip when he opened up the throttle and we started zooming along. 

 

“Welcome to Casa del Securidad,” Hunter said, pulling into a garage, badly mangling the Spanish. “CASSIE for short.”

“You call a house Cassie?” I asked, getting off the bike.

“No,” came a voice. “They call me CASSIE. You must be Miss Michaelson.” I looked around. No one there. 

“It’s nice to meet you?” I said. “An AI?” I asked Hunter, who nodded.

“Tessa, meet CASSIE, or Curious Android Seeking S In Everything. CASSIE, Tessa Michaelson.”

“In Everything?” I grinned. “Someone really wanted to name her Cassie.”

“Blame Stark,” Hunter said. “It’s his house.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tessa,” CASSIE said. 

“Likewise,” I replied. I looked for the other snowmobile. “No Barnes?” I asked.

“How do you -?” Hunter started, then stopped. “He’s a character as well?”

“You as well,” I confirmed. “Although the guy who plays you on the TV is shorter.” Real-Hunter was easily 6 feet tall, even without his snowboots. I felt tiny. 

Hunter humphed. “You’ll have to tell me more about myself, then,” he said. “Who else do you know about?”

“On Coulson’s team?” I asked. Hunter led me up the stairs, and I assumed he nodded. “Bobbi, your ex? Your wife?”

“My ex-wife,” Hunter said. 

“Skye, Fitz, Simmons, Mack, May, and Coulson.” I listed them off on my fingers. “Did I miss one?”

“No, that’s everyone.” Hunter had gone tense.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” I asked as we went through a door. “That I know everyone.” He ushered me through a door. “But I don’t actually. I know the fictional versions. I’m not stupid enough, I hope, to think that they’re actually …” I trailed off as I took in the room we’d just entered. I looked out and up. One wall was almost all windows, supported by logs at least twenty feet high, which looked out onto a spectacular mountain view. I looked down to people level and spotted three people. An Asian girl and a brunette were sat behind a computer, and a man in a suit was halfway across the room. All three looked up at our entrance. 

“Wait, wait,” Hunter said before any of them could speak. “I want to try something.” He turned to me. “Who are they?”

“Skye and Dr. Simmons are over by the computer,” I said, playing along. _Way to make me the freak, Hunter_ , I groused mentally. “And the man in the suit I would guess to be Agent Coulson. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Simmons’ eyebrows had shot up almost to her hairline, and Skye looked shocked. But Coulson just tilted his head millimetrically and came over.

“Phil Coulson,” he said, extending a hand. “But you knew that.”

“Tessa Michaelson,” I said, shaking. “But you knew that as well.”

“It’s fascinating,” Simmons said. “The many worlds theory, confirmed and standing in front of me - oh, I’ll have to introduce you to Fitz - that’s Dr. Leo Fitz”

“She knows who he is,” Hunter put in.

“Of course,” Simmons said, not letting Hunter interrupt her flow. “And we’ll have to discuss your world more. Is your world identical to ours in every way apart from us? You wouldn’t know that, would you? We’ll have to devise some tests. And take some blood, as long as you’re willing, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. “Anything for science.” The judicially applied sarcasm stopped Simmons, who switched directions.

“How impolite of me. I’m Dr. Jemma Simmons.”

“Tessa Michaelson,” I said. “And I would be happy to help you and Dr. Fitz with your enquiries,” I said. “I’m interested in the phenomenon myself.”

Skye had come over by this point as well and was eyeing me. “How do you know who I am?” she asked.

“You’re a hero on a TV show back home,” I said. Her eyes widened. 

“A hero?” 

“All of you are,” I said. “Even you, Mr. Hunter,” I said, turning to the merc. 

“Hero,” the Brit snorted.

“Who’s a hero?” A statuesque lady walked in. 

“Me, apparently.” He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Bobbi Morse,” I said, getting more and more tired of the parlour trick. The woman raised an eyebrow at me. “Tessa Michaelson,” I continued. “Girl from a parallel dimension in which you are all fictional characters. That’s how I know you all. Well, your characters.”

“Barnes is back,” Morse said. “And the perimeter is clear.”

“Thanks Bobbi,” Coulson said. “I suggest someone shows Tessa here around, and we can all get to know her properly later. Simmons?”

“Glad to.”

 

 

“So how long have you been in this dimension?” Simmons asked, leading me out the far door of the great room.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “But I should get back.” 

“Understandable,” the scientist said. “This is the lab.” She pushed open a door, revealing benches with test tubes, microscopes, and other miscellaneous lab equipment. 

“Jemma!” a Scottish voice called from the other side of the room. “Come here a sec!”

“Just a minute,” Simmons said, giving me an apologetic smile.

“Please, take your time,” I replied. “I’m in no hurry.”

“Who’s that?” another voice asked. This one was deeper, male, and American. Fitz and Mack, I surmised. I followed Simmons into the lab. 

“Tessa Michaelson,” Simmons said. “She came with Captain America and the rest of the Avengers.” I blinked a little at that, but it was true. I had come with the Avengers. Wow.

She was talking to a slight man in a cardigan with red hair. I blamed my continued tiredness for what I said next.

“No one told me Fitz was a real ginger!” I said. Simmons, Fitz, and the man sitting in the corner who I assumed to be Mack just stared at me. 

Fitz was the first one to speak. “I do come by it… honestly.” I heard the stammer and worked to keep the shock off my face. Poor Fitz.

“As do I,” I said, fingering my own red curls. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Fitz.”

“Och, call me Fitz,” he said lightly, going back to his work. “Everyone else does.”

“I don’t.” I spun. The voice had come from not too far behind me. 

“Barnes.” The man had managed to sneak up on all of us and was a scant few yards behind me, grinning. I recognised that mischievous look. Loki had worn it often.

“No, you don’t,” Fitz agreed, not looking up from his work.

“Scotty just suits you better,” Barnes said, and I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop my laughter. 

“Scotty, as in ‘Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor?’” I asked Barnes, not quite able to stop a chuckle. Barnes looked surprised. “I don’t want to live in a parallel universe without Star Trek,” I continued. I was surprised. I hadn’t expected Barnes to be so, well, funny. 

“Stick with me, kid,” he said, clapping a friendly hand on my shoulder. “We’ll take care of ya.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” I said in my best Scottish accent. Which was, of course, atrocious. Fitz groaned as Barnes and I grinned.

“But he wasn’t a Captain!” Simmons protested. “He was a Sargent.”

“Still am, sweetheart,” Barnes said easily. “Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, at your service.” He looked at Jemma, then at me. “Miss Michaelson, you and I need to have a talk.”

“Oh - All right,” I said tentatively. “What about?”

“Pop culture,” the man said, as if it should have been obvious. “I want to compare notes - what your world has that we don’t, that kind of thing.”

“I’m at your disposal,” I said, dumbfounded, not catching the double entendre until too late.

Barnes waggled an eyebrow. “I’ll take you up on that,” he said, and strolled out.

I stared after him. “He does that to us all, you know,” Simmons said, coming up to stand next to me. 

“But I have a boyfriend!” I said, still looking after the supersoldier. 


	28. Dear Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa and Coulson have a heart to heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAaaaand I'm back!!  
> High Fantastical is done, my work commitments are somewhat more manageable, and I'm ready to start work on this again! 
> 
> No promises on an update schedule - we'll see how I do. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter, and I'll be back soon with more!

I was sat in the great room. I sat backwards, head on my arms on the back of the low-slung couch, staring out the window. Simmons, no, Jemma, I corrected myself - she’d told me to use her first name - had shown me to my room. She, Skye and I were all on one wing of the basement, along with a den containing the biggest couch and TV I’d ever seen. I’d found a change of clothes, and after a shower, I’d returned to the view.

It was spectacular, the landscape here. Wherever here was. The white dropoff of the cliff, the valley below, and the mountain ranges in the distance. All with not a house in sight. I could have stared at it for hours. 

“You doing ok?” Coulson sat next to me on the couch, and I turned to face him.

“Agent Coulson,” I said in greeting. “Yes, thank you.” I glanced out at the windows again. “Everyone here has been very kind. A most pleasant change to my previous experience, I can assure you.”

Coulson chuckled. “I can imagine. Rogers said you shot Bakshi?”

I grimaced. “It’s a miracle I hit him at all, actually.” I folded my hands together. “That was the first time I’d actually shot a gun. My dad - he was in the Army - taught me about his, what the parts were, how they worked, and all that. But the first time I ever fired one was yesterday.” I flashed back to my hands on the gun, my finger pulling back the trigger slowly, gently. “I wasn’t aiming for his leg, you know.”

Coulson didn’t look fazed. “Where were you aiming?”

“Centre of mass,” I replied. “Around his solar plexus, as far as I could tell. I hit his thigh. I guess the bullet did its job.” I hadn’t actually wanted to kill Bakshi. I winced, remembering Bakshi’s screams of pain. They had been loud. And piercing.

“You seem remarkably calm about the whole thing,” Coulson commented, not exactly emotional himself.

I didn’t quite know what to say. I was calm. And I probably shouldn’t be. The thing that bothered me most, about the whole thing, wasn’t my actions in the server room. It was my time in the cell. I kept going over it again and again from every angle, wondering if I’d made correct decisions. Should I have acted differently around Anderson? Should I have agreed to Bakshi’s offer so readily? Could I have escaped earlier?

And, the question that kept scurrying around the back of my brain - what happened to the photo Anderson had taken of me? Had he sent it to Loki? Had Loki seen it? If he had, where was he? Did he just not care anymore?

Leave it to you, Tessa, I thought, to take a kidnap and worry more about whether someone else cares about you rather than your becoming a killer. Well done.   
“Tessa?” Coulson had a hand on my shoulder. I recoiled at the contact, straight into the back of the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s all right,” I said hurriedly, trying to get my suddenly thundering pulse under control. “I guess I checked out for a minute there. What were you saying?”

“I was saying you seemed to be handling everything very calmly,” Coulson repeated.

“Oh, right.” I smiled faintly. “I guess?” I shook my head. “To tell the truth, right now I’m far more affected by the kidnap than by what I did getting myself out. Even though I killed someone there.” I made a face. “I suppose that makes me a bad person.”

“Not necessarily.” Coulson looked so solid, so reliable. I could see why people trusted him so easily. “And remember, this is all very recent. Your attitude could change. Or it could stay the same. Either way, it’s ok. If you want my recommendation?” I nodded. “Talk to Barnes.”

“I wanted to ask about him, actually,” I said. “I take it Captain Rogers found him?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Coulson asked, studying me very carefully. “I thought you were supposed to know everything.”

“The MCU - I mean, the current most recent comic iteration hasn’t made it this far yet. Maybe in the next movie,” I said, trying to explain. “Besides. You know how comics work, right?” Coulson nodded. “They reset characters. They kill them off, then bring them back. They do different things under different writers.”

“So what do you know?” Coulson asked.

“Bearing in mind I might be wrong?”

“Right.”

“About you?”

“Let’s start there.”

“Ok.” I took a breath, collecting my thoughts. “Phil Coulson. SHIELD agent. Well-regarded, as far as I can tell. The first time you showed up, you were trying to talk to Stark - around the time he became Iron Man. You have a serious case of hero worship for Captain America.” I grinned. “‘I watched you while you were sleeping,’” I quoted. “Awesome line. Anyway.” I swallowed. I didn’t want to say the next bit, for oh so many reasons. “You were killed by Loki in the Battle of New York, or whatever you call it. The one where the Chitauri invaded. Fury kept you alive, injected you with K- with alien blood, or fluids, whatever. The GH 326 serum.” I stopped myself before I said Kree. I didn’t know if I should be saying that, and I had no inclination to play Nostradamus. Coulson’s face was growing more and more stern by the minute anyway. 

“At first you didn’t remember anything,” I said. “You thought you were dead for seven seconds, and then you went to Tahiti. ‘It’s a magical place.’ Then, after you remembered, you went a little nutso. You carved symbols into walls, until you figured out about the alien city in San Juan. How am I doing?”

Coulson just stared at me for a minute as I waited, wondering what his reaction would be. Then he shook his head. “I don’t see any way for you to know all that without your story being true.” He shook his head. “Unless you’re some kind of evil twin for Nick Fury.”

“I’m in no way badass enough for that,” I said. 

Coulson cracked a smile. “But you know more.”

“I do,” I confirmed.

“And you won’t tell us?” 

“About your own possible futures? With the emphasis on possible?” I asked. “No, I won’t. That kind of thing never ends well.”

“So we have to trust you?” Hunter had walked in on the tail end of our conversation.

“Never said you had to,” I said to both of them. “Trust would be nice, of course, but I can’t blame you for not trusting me. I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“So you won’t tell us anything?”

“I’ll tell you what I know about your pasts and presents,” I said. “But not your possible futures.”

“Fair enough,” Coulson said, standing up. “Talk to Barnes, Tessa. He doesn’t bite.”

“I never thought he would,” I replied.


	29. Wherever They Fly the Flag of Old England

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa makes dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd think I'd get tired of apologising that this isn't getting done quicker and just write, but, well, unfortunately we'd all be wrong...
> 
> In any event, here's the next chapter, and I have another queued for tomorrow.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“You don’t have to make dinner,” Jemma said. “It’s supposed to be mine and Skye’s turn anyway.”

“It’s no trouble,” I said, stirring the curry absently. “I like to cook.” _When Ginny lets me in the kitchen, anyway,_ I thought, suddenly hit by a massive wave of homesickness. I took a deep, hopefully unobtrusive breath, squashing the feeling. I wondered idly how long I could keep repressing any and all emotions I didn’t like. Hopefully as long as I needed to. “One of my roommates, back home, is training to be a baker, so she usually commandeers our kitchen. I cook when I can.”

“A baker, really?”

I nodded, suddenly missing Ginny and Anton something fierce. “Yeah. It’s really lovely. We get to try all of the things she has to master for her apprenticeship - I took up running just so I could still fit in all of my clothes!”

“Sounds great,” Jemma said, moving around me to grab a glass. “Wait, one of your roommates. You have more than one?”

“Sure.” Another stir. “I live with a couple. Ginny - she’s the baker, and Anton. He’s - I’m actually not sure what he does. Something with computers, anyway. We always have electronics odds and ends lying about the flat.”

“Anton and Ginny,” Jemma mused.

“Yup.”

“Ginny wouldn’t be short for Virginia, would it?” Jemma asked.

“Yes,” I said slowly, not sure where she was going.

“And I assume you call Anton ‘Tony’ for short?”

“Yes. Oh.” My jaw dropped a little. “You don’t think -“

“The coincidence is there,” Jemma filled her glass with orange juice. “Anton and Virginia - Tony and Ginny, Anthony and Virginia - Tony and Pepper. Given what else has happened, I have issue calling this a fluke.”

“No kidding.” I breathed. How hadn’t I thought of that?

“What’s for dinner?” I jerked out of my reverie as Hunter poked his head through the doorway.

“Curry,” I replied without thinking. “Or something curry-adjacent. My mum’s recipe.”

“Smells good. Better than what Simmons usually cooks up.”

“Hey!” Jemma protested.

“I’m sure Jemma cooks wonderfully,” I put in, wanting to defend one of my new, hopefully, friends.

“If you call crunchy pasta, mostly defrosted ready-meals, and raw vegetables cuisine, then sure.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I said, although judging from Jemma’s expression, it most definitely could, and was probably worse. “And if she wants to learn, I’m happy to teach. Only if you want, though,” I finished, turning to speak to Jemma alone.

“What are you doing here anyway, Hunter?” Jemma asked, taking a sip of her juice.

“Call it a longing for the dulcet tones of home.” I snorted. No way in hell Hunter came to hang out with us simply because he missed English accents.

“How long has it been since you were in the UK, anyway?” Jemma asked. “Can you say?”

“Since I was England,” mused Hunter. “Christ, I’m not sure… A few years, probably. I’ve flown through a few times this year - cleaning up that mess in Greenwich, for example, but not long enough to stay anywhere special. Even longer since I was a soldier for the Queen.”

 _So Hunter did serve. Makes sense._ But he was still talking. “What about you, Simmons - how long?”

“Greenwich, obviously,” she said, wrinkling her nose in thought. “And then, I suppose, Christmas? I took time off to spend Christmas at home because Fitz did as well…” her face dropped.

“What about you?” Hunter asked. _As if this hadn’t been his goal all along,_ I snarked inwardly. _Keep asking, guys and gals. The answers are not going to change because someone else asks the questions._

“HYDRA took me from London,” I said, flatly. I didn’t quite have the patience to sugar coat it just then. “I’m not sure how long they had me - definitely no more than a week. So yeah. I was last in London last week sometime. Not your London, though, but I’m prepared to bet it’s really similar.”

“Do you miss it?” Jemma asked after a moment’s silence. At least her question, I was almost sure, was genuine.

“London?” She nodded.

I thought, stirring the curry again. “I suppose. I miss my friends, my roommates, more.” _And Loki. You I miss more than them combined, love._ I wondered again whether I would get to see him before being sent back to my own reality. “I guess I don’t have as much binding me there as I thought. HYDRA killed my dog, as they were taking me.” My throat closed over the last word or two, and I turned firmly back to the curry as I closed my eyes. _I will NOT cry. Not in front of them. Not in public._

“Oh, Tessa.” That was Jemma. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “You didn’t know.” _Also, the fact that I’m way more emotional about my dog being killed than I am about the man I bludgeoned to death is in no way causing me any concern. Nope._

A hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump and brandish the wooden spoon in front of me. _Who do I have to kill now? What happened?_ I came back to myself with a lurch. Hunter stood there, hands up as my pulse thudded in my throat.

“My turn to apologise. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s ok.”

“It’s not,” Hunter said quietly, “but ok.” He headed out of the kitchen, turning at the last minute. “How long should I say for dinner?”

I glanced at the pot. “Ten minutes?” I said, considering. “Yeah, ten, maybe fifteen. Whoever’s turn it is to set the table should probably get started.”

Hunter snorted. “Barnes’ turn tonight. I bet he’s already done and folding napkin swans. That man’s a regular Russian Martha Stewart.”

“I’m sure he appreciates that,” I snarked, and grinned at him. “Now get out of my kitchen so I can feed you, you great lump.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Hunter threw me a salute as he exited.

_Well, maybe they’re not so bad._


	30. Excelsior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stark finally gets in contact

Almost a week later, I was lounging in the main room, the one with all the windows. I’d settled in here, running with Jemma in the mornings in the gym, badgering Bucky and Hunter to show me self-defence, reading, then cooking lunch for the team and science-ing with Fitz-Simmons in the afternoons. Evenings were dinner, then a movie and chatting with the team.

They were nice people, and had mostly included me pretty well. I was certainly closest to Jemma, Bucky, and Hunter, although I only felt actively scared of Agent May. She was formidable. My flash-backs and triggers were getting less, usually one every other day or so, and I was getting better at avoiding them in my training sessions with the boys as well.

Right now, though, I was curled up with a novel - Agatha Christie’s ABC Mysteries. _At least Poirot came to this world unscathed,_ I thought, turning to the next chapter.

“Miss Michaelson?” CASSIE asked. I jumped. Talking to the AI definitely would take more getting used to. Not that I’d interacted with her very much so far.

“Yeah, Cassie, what’s up?”

“Mr. Stark would like to speak to you.” I sat up completely straight, Poirot forgotten. _This is it,_ I thought. _Finally._

“Sounds wonderful,” I said, “Where do I go?”

“If you would proceed to the conference room, please. I will guide you.”

“Lead the way,” I said, smoothing suddenly damp hands on my pants as I rose. I was also really wishing I had nicer clothes. Instead I was stuck with SHIELD-issue uniforms, sweats, and whatever clothes of the girl’s fit me, aka nothing. I was too curvy to fit into any of Jemma’s or Bobbi’s clothes, and too tall to even bother trying Skye’s or Agent May’s. So I’d been wearing SHIELD uniforms. _At least they’re all black. That’s flattering, right?_ I looked down at the crew-neck, long-sleeved t-shirt, the combat pants. _Well, a girl can dream._

 

Two corridors, three turns and a code-locked door later, and I was being let into the conference room by Agent Coulson himself.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, pulling out a chair for me.

“Thank you,” I said. “And I’d like to get this all sorted quickly, as, I’m sure, would you.”

“It’s nice to meet someone from another world who’s normal, for a change,” he said. I grimaced at the oblique reference to Loki. Also, at the implication that I was normal. I certainly hoped not.

“Are we waiting for something?” I asked, and as I spoke, the screen flickered to life, Tony’s face larger than life.

“Hey, Michaelson,” he said, “How’s it going?”

“Mr. Stark,” I replied, smiling faintly. “It’s nice to see you again.” Whether it was nice or not was something I would keep to myself. Once I figured it out.

“Oh, and here’s someone else who wants to say hi.” The camera shifted, and I was faced with Loki’s brother.

“Lady Tessa!” the man boomed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise,” I said, doing my best to be polite. Tony stole the camera back.

“It’s her, Coulson. She’s telling the truth.”

“We’d pretty much guessed that already,” Coulson said drily. I smiled. I liked Coulson’s way of dealing with Stark. There was a commotion behind the screen, and both Tony and Thor stood.

“Hold the line,” Tony snapped at the camera as it went black. My heart leapt into my throat. What had just happened? Coulson just sat there, calm and silent, and I tried to channel his Zen.

The image flickered, and Tony reappeared. “Sorry for the commotion, folks. Reindeer Games here crashed the party.” The camera swerved again and my heart completely stopped.

“Loki.”


	31. I've Got My Eyes On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Tessa chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand they're back! Well, over webcam. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

“Loki.” My heart beat once, skipped a beat, beat again, then started pounding.

He looked terrible, and wonderful. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin looked too pale, even over this connection, and his clothes hung too loosely on him - had he been eating or sleeping at all? What did it take for an Asgardian to look like that? But his green eyes were bright and staring right into the camera.

“Tessa,” he breathed. His voice unlocked all the emotions that had I had been suppressing in the months he’d been gone, and tears suddenly were streaking down my cheeks.

“Hi,” I said, smiling as I tried to keep my vision clear. “How’s it going? Are you all right?”

“I am well enough,” he said, and I suspected the brightness in his eyes wasn’t entirely due to the screen as well. His voice was even deeper than normal, and he barely blinked, as if this would all vanish if he let his eyes close for too long. “I am much better for seeing you.”

“Yeah.” I stretched out a hand towards the image, even though I knew it was stupid, that I wouldn’t touch him. Even this was so much more than I thought I’d ever get - seeing him again - that I couldn’t complain about the lack of physical contact.

Tony spoke up. “So we want to get Tessa to us somehow - is our favourite Russian ready to head back?”

“He could use another few weeks, but tentatively, yes.”

“Then let’s pick them both up. Spangles will be happy to see him. Tomorrow, yes?”

Tomorrow. That I heard, and my smile grew even wider.

“Tomorrow?” I mouthed to Loki. _I get to see you tomorrow?_ I was conscientiously not thinking about when I had to leave him again.

He nodded, smiling. “Agent Coulson,” he said, and I tore my gaze away from the man I loved to look at the man sitting next to me. He was grim, and more uncomfortable than I’d seen. “I owe you a debt now I can never hope to repay - for keeping Tessa safe. Anything you and your organisation require of me, only ask, and it is yours.” I drew in breath. That was a big promise.

Coulson sat there. Then he nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “We… may take you up on that.” He cleared his throat. “Will you be coming on the Quinjet tomorrow? So I can prepare my people what to expect?”

Loki looked like he was going to reply, then looked off-camera. Then he looked at me. “Only if it meets with your approval,” he said. “I would like nothing more than to see Tessa as soon as possible, but I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way.”

 _Wow._ He looked at me, a bit wary. _He thinks I’ll be mad at him,_ I realised, and smiled at him. _But he’s actually doing the right thing - how could I possibly be mad at him for that?_ The furrow that had formed itself between Loki’s eyebrows cleared ever so slightly, and his lips quirked.

“I think I can bear your presence for a few hours,” Coulson said calmly. “Come. See your girlfriend.”

Loki outright grinned. “Thank you, Agent Coulson.”

“We’ll send Barton tomorrow,” Tony said.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” I put in.

“Don’t mention it, kiddo,” Stark said drily. “Believe me. If we tried to keep you two apart at this point, one or the other of you would escape within a few days. Call this heading you two off at the pass before you elope to Vegas.” I grinned. I liked Stark.

“Now, I have work to do,” Coulson said, standing. I made to get up, but he stopped me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. _It’s ok. It’s Coulson. You’re safe. You’re safe._ I closed my eyes briefly, the freak-out ending almost as it began, and looked up at him questioningly. “You can stay as long as you want. The connection’s secure.”

“You’re the best, Coulson,” I told him, smiling and settling back in my chair.

“Yeah, we’re out of here too,” Stark said, heading out the door with Thor in tow. “Sorry, Prancer, we’re gonna have to pull you out after half an hour.”

“I understand the situation, Stark,” Loki said, nodding in farewell, and then we were alone. Well, alone over an Internet connection.

“Tessa,” Loki said. I still couldn’t help staring at him. I had memorised his face accurately, I was glad to know, but I kept trying to fix it more permanently into my memory.

“Loki,” I replied, smiling. My cheeks were going to start hurting if I smiled much longer. Not that I was complaining. At least the waterworks had stopped.

“It is so good to see you again,” he said. I nodded. “But are you all right? Tell me - what has happened since I saw you last? How are Tony and Ginny? How is Steve?”

The tears were about to start again, hot and stinging my eyes, but I brushed them away. “So much,” I said, trying to speak fast, trying not to worry him too much. “So much happened. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, I promise.”

“All right,” he said, not happy.

“What about you? You don’t exactly look healthy yourself,” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Loki looked at his hands. “It turns out I am much less concerned about my own well-being when I do not have something to live for,” he said shortly. “And I have been unable to sleep, it is true.”

I grimaced. “Love, you really should take better care of yourself,” I scolded, then winced again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to nag you.”

Loki just grinned. “It matters not. I am touched that you care so for my well-being.”

“Well, I shouldn’t nag you, though,” I argued. “But seriously, dear. _It matters not?_ I think you’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

It was Loki’s turn to grimace. “That is entirely possible.” His grin flashed again. “We are getting on better, you might like to know.”

“Good!” I looked at the clock on the wall. 1:45. “Gosh, I can’t wait to see you - you know, in person.”

“If I could make the time go more quickly, I would,” Loki promised. “I have missed you so, my love.” Had he always been so quick to smile, or had I forgotten that?

“Did you not know I was here?” I asked. “I’ve been - I’ve been with Coulson’s people for almost a week now.” I caught myself before I said ‘I’ve been rescued’. I really didn’t want to explain why I’d needed rescuing over webcam.

Loki was shaking his head. “No, I did not know.” He glared at the door. “I wandered into the room by chance and heard your voice. I must admit, I am still not happy with either of them for keeping this from me.”

“To be fair, I think they just confirmed it for themselves,” I said, trying to head off Loki’s anger. Not that I didn’t think it was justified, this time, at least. “Did they tell you why they kept it from you? Also, what the heck have you all been working on for a week that Stark couldn’t get on a web conference for five minutes?”

Loki’s smile, which had been playing around his lips since we’d began speaking, dropped. “We have been busy, it is true - Stark had his few levels of the tower locked down so we could meet with visitors from Asgard in complete privacy. We were accepting no messages below the level of a world-wide emergency.”

 _So many questions to ask,_ I thought. _What were they doing? Why did they need to talk to Asgard? Who from Asgard? Will I get to meet them? And of course, I’m not a world-wide emergency._ I didn’t ask any of that - I had a feeling it wasn’t something Loki could or would say in this situation, not that I blamed him. “You have so much to tell me tomorrow, buddy,” I said. Loki nodded, smiling again.

“That I do.” His smile turned mischievous. “I trust, however, that you won’t take it amiss if I greet you properly first?” My stomach dropped agreeably as I imagined Loki’s idea of a proper greeting.

“Indeed not, good sir,” I said. It had been so long since I’d smiled this much - since I’d last seen him, months ago. “I expect the appropriate greeting.”

“I shall do my best not to disappoint,” he said.

“When do you ever?” I asked, meaning it, and his smile grew.

We continued in that vein, swapping pleasantries and lighthearted quips, until Thor stuck his head into the room and told Loki it was time for him to go.

“I will see you tomorrow,” Loki promised. “We will leave as soon as it is safe for Barton to fly in the morning.”

“See you soon.” Tomorrow couldn’t come quickly enough.

“I love you,” Loki said, and the breath caught in my throat.

“I love you too,” I said, and his face faded.

_Now let’s just hope for no disasters between now and tomorrow morning._


	32. Midsummer Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tessa can't sleep.

I hadn’t slept.

Well, that wasn’t true. I’d tried to sleep. I’d gone to bed at a semi-reasonable hour, after watching one of the Indiana Jones movies with Coulson’s team. They were all a bit nervous at Loki’s arrival, but were being very nice about my excitement - so much so, in fact, that I guessed they hadn’t been told, or hadn’t realised, exactly what my relationship with the God of Mischief and Lies was.

In any event, I had tossed and turned for almost two hours before drifting off into a light sleep, in which I killed the HYDRA agent again. But this time, I didn’t just kill him. I killed Bakshi too. And the other guy - the one who had been unconscious. I was a machine, one who swung the baton and shot the gun, no remorse, no feeling. I caught a glimpse of Bucky in my sights before the dream flipped and I was captured. I was in that cell again, cold and tired, hungry and terrified. A goon came in with a knife. I woke up just as the knife began to cut into my arm. What did it say about my nightmares that I almost preferred the second scenario?

I awoke gasping for air, shivering as I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them. Morning couldn’t come quickly enough.

After that, I abandoned sleep. I read in the main room, mainlining coffee and trying to make time go more quickly. I was up for Agent May’s tai chi practice, and dressed long before even Bucky went for his morning run. I made a more elaborate breakfast than normal - French toast with all the extras, bacon, eggs, sausage, plus beans, tomatoes, and mushrooms for Jemma, Hunter and I - full English breakfasts were, after all, traditional.

Coulson had walked in at 7:30, saying that the Quinjet was in the air, and would be arriving in about 90 minutes.

And now it was just shy of 9 am, and I was absolutely exhausted, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep. And I knew the exhaustion was simply my brain’s way of getting my body to calm down, that I didn’t actually want to lie down and nap, or go racing around the safe house, bouncing off of walls.

CASSIE spoke. “The Quinjet is approximately fifteen minutes away from the house,” she said crisply, and I dropped my book, not even pretending to read anymore. Everyone’s face showed different levels of nerves and anticipation, except for Coulson and May. Coulson looked as unflappable as ever, and May looked positively bored. I envied their calm. Skye and Jemma, my companions in the lounge, looked more nervous, Skye’s eyes glued to Coulson’s reaction and Jemma’s fingers suddenly tapping on the printout of the paper she was reading.

“Then we should probably go out and meet our guests,” Coulson remarked. “Tessa, if you’d like to join myself and Barnes?”

“Delighted,” I said as calmly as I could, trying to stop my grin from stretching across my face. I knew they didn’t like him, but frack it, he was coming - Loki was coming! I’d examined my bruises in the mirror this morning - all but a trace of them had vanished, and for that I was grateful. I felt a flash of panic. _Am I being too confident in his feelings? What if everything changes, now you’re both here?_ I overrode my doubts.

_No, he came on a Quinjet to see you. He wants to see you. He loves you. Believe it._

“Tessa?” Jemma asked, and I glanced over at the scientist, who was studying me intently.

“Yes?”

She looked at my expression a bit longer, then shook her head. “Never mind. You’ll come and say goodbye before you leave, right?”

“Of course,” I assured her, then looked at Coulson for confirmation. He nodded.

“She’ll be back. We’ll be bringing Agent Barton and Loki back for a quick briefing before they all leave anyway.” _Probably to let the team know about Ragnarok - they know about the many worlds thing anyway,_ I mused, then grimaced inwardly. _I really didn’t want to have to think about the fact that I have to leave today. Couldn’t I have had one day without knowing my continued life here causes the multiverse to collapse in on itself? I mean, most people think they’re one of the most important things in the universe, but now I am, and let me tell you, it really sucks._

Coulson looked at me. “Ready to go?” I stood quickly.

“Sir, yes, sir,” I said. _Sorry Coulson,_ I apologised mentally. _I’m excited to see him._

Ten minutes later I was on a snowmobile behind Bucky speeding to the Quinjet landing site on the other side of the plateau. I could see a dot in the sky growing closer and closer, my stomach knotting more and more fiercely as I saw it approach. Why was I so nervous?

Bucky stopped the snowmobile. “Time to get off, Agent Dunham,” he said, using the nickname he’d given me the second he knew I’d seen Fringe. I was still impressed with the amount of pop culture Bucky had assimilated since his deprogramming. Apparently not needing more than four hours of sleep every night meant a lot of time to catch up.

“Whatever, Walter, whatever,” I said, swinging one leg off the machine and into the snow. If I was Olivia Dunham, he was Walter Bishop. Old man. Bucky chuckled and followed me to stand next to Coulson as the Quinjet, now a discernible shape in the sky, dropped even further.

“You can smile, you know,” Coulson said out of nowhere. My head shot to look at him. A minuscule smile played across his face.

“What?” Coulson did not just say what I thought he said.

“You can smile,” he repeated. “I won’t be offended.” He paused. “I’ve met him before, you know. He apologised, and everything. And I’ve talked to him since he met you - he’s different - not on a hair trigger any more.”

“Oh.”

“I wouldn’t say I like him,” Coulson continued, “After all, the guy did kill me, however temporarily. But you don’t have my baggage. You love him, and I won’t think less of you if you show it.”

I had to hug Coulson. I had no choice. He really was good people.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re the best?” I asked, having to raise my voice as the Quinjet came in for its final approach.

“Skye might have mentioned it, once or twice,” Coulson smirked. I smacked him on the shoulder, but then straightened as the Quinjet settled down onto the hard-packed snow. _Showtime._


	33. They Couldn't Compare To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Loki arrive at the safe house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has taken quite a while - it took me several drafts to get right, so I hope you all like it. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING! Panic attacks - if you are triggered by that, stop reading after Tessa says "give us some privacy".

I waited with bated breath as the Quinjet sunk lower, lower, landing gear reaching for the ground. With two soft thuds and the whirring of machinery, the plane touched down onto the well-packed snow. 

My heart pounded in the stillness, and I was sure at least Barnes could hear the way it skipped and started as we waited for the hatch under the belly of the plane to open. I snuck a glimpse at the soldier, who, sure enough, was regarding me with some amusement.

“Something funny?” I asked, the question coming out more sharply than I’d intended.

“This is the most worked up I’ve seen you, doll. You’re twitching and fidgeting all over the place.” Barnes said. “It’s funny.”

“Only to you, Barnes,” I said, my lips twitching in the smile I couldn’t quite stop. “Only to you.” Coulson chuckled on my other side as I heard the whirring of the engines change frequency, growing louder, then softer, then ceasing entirely. 

Then the ramp in the belly of the plane lowered and my heart shot to my throat.

Two pairs of black boots began to step down the ramp. Then I saw the coat. Hawkeye would never wear that woollen coat, the one the man on the left was wearing. 

Hands were visible, and I was sure the man on the left was Loki - I honestly wasn’t paying much attention to the other guy. Then chests, then they were off the ramp and I could see his face.

I was running before I realised it, clunking in my snow boots and my overly large parka, and slammed into Loki, throwing my arms around him.

Either he hadn’t been expecting it, or he hadn’t seen me yet, or something, because I toppled him over backwards into the snow. My face went scarlet as I tried to regain my breath - I’d managed to knock all the air out of both of us, apparently. 

Loki’s grin stretched almost halfway across his face as he coughed once, bringing his arms around me to hold me close. Not that gravity wasn’t doing that already, of course. 

“Well that was an unexpected welcome,” he said, staring up at me.

“Oops,” I said a tad unrepentantly. It was hard to feel bad when Loki was making precisely no move to get me off of him. No, I was very happy like this. “Hi,” I said, suddenly shy, burying my head in his shoulder.

“If the touching welcomes are over,” Barnes drawled, and I was suddenly on the snow with Loki between me and the newcomer. I put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, both to stop him from doing anything stupid and to lever myself upright once more. “You know, Dunham, I never thought I’d see a God bowled over, but you’re full of secrets.”

I smiled sweetly. “You bet your 40’s ass, Walter,” Loki was already standing up, blocking my field of vision, so I moved the few steps to stand next to him. “Loki, this is Sergeant James Barnes, a friend of mine; Walter, Loki Odinson, God of Mischief and Lies. Coulson you know.” _Understatement of the century._

Loki nodded, catching my wrist and pulling me closer. Not that I objected the contact, but I hoped this protectiveness was only temporary. Especially from the team. Barnes would never hurt me. 

Loki extended his free hand to Coulson, who shook, and then to Barnes. “You’ve both met Agent Barton?” He turned to me, “Tessa, may I present Agent Clint Barton, Agent Barton, Tessa Michaelson.” I grinned, sticking out my own gloved hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Hawkeye,” I said. 

“Likewise,” he drawled, a hint of Southern something sneaking through. “Heard a lot about you. I’m surprised you aren’t glowin’, or something.” Barnes snorted, and I grinned sheepishly. _What has Loki been saying about me?_

“We’ll go on into the house,” Coulson said, gesturing at Barton and Barnes. “Feel free to join us whenever,” he said, with a small twinkle in his eye. 

And they vanished off into the snow, taking the snowmobiles with them. 

“We’ve been abandoned,” I said, smirking slightly as I turned back to Loki.

“There is another snowmobile in the airplane,” Loki replied, moving ever so slowly closer to me - not that there had been a great deal of distance between us anyway. 

“Is there?” I asked, more interested in playing with Loki’s scarf. 

“Mmm.” He hummed, then his arms were around me, lips on mine. “I believe Agent Coulson was trying to give us some privacy.”

“That’s nice of him,” I agreed as Loki ran his nose along my jaw. My heart began racing again, and this time the shortness of breath was not pleasant. I started to gasp. _It’s just a panic attack, you moron. You’ll be fine. Loki would never hurt you._ _It’s just a panic attack._ I tried repeating it, but it didn’t do any good as my hyperventilation began to make me dizzy. There was no hiding it now. 

“Tessa?” I was practically leaning on Loki at this point, legs no longer able to support my own weight as I panted, trying desperately to even out my breathing. I didn’t want Loki to see this side of me. I never wanted anyone to see me this… weak. 

“Panic… attack,” I said, well, I tried to say. I wasn’t sure whether or not Loki heard me. He’d let me go slightly, allowing more of my weight back on to my own feet, and that was a bad idea, because my knees buckled and I slid, slowly and quickly to the floor of the ramp, barely catching myself with palms that shot out and slammed the metal, sending shockwaves up my arms. That wasn’t helpful. And Loki was crouching down in front of me, and I knew it was Loki, and it didn’t matter, because someone big was crouching in front of me, and suddenly I was in that horrible cell, in those horrible manacles, and I had to get out out out, and Loki was talking, no shouting, and reaching towards me, and I slid backwards, and backwards, and backwards, until I was in a corner, huddled in a little ball, trying to make myself as small as possible. 

Finally, once I was sure I was going to be hurt again, and I was stuck in HYDRA’s clutches for the rest of my natural life, however long that might be, my heart rate began to slow. My breathing began to even out, and the grey around the edges of my vision began to clear up again. I came back to Bucky’s voice.

“Hey, doll, you’re gonna be ok.” His voice was low and steady - it had brought be back from a few panic attacks already, and Barnes was my favourite person to have there - non-judgemental. “You gave your boy here a scare - he’s right here, don’t worry. You’re fine. You’re ok.”

I lifted my head from where I had wedged it against my knees slowly, wary of moving too quickly. Bucky was crouched a few feet from me, Loki watching intently from the other side of the hangar. I managed a smile. Or I hoped I did.

“And she’s back,” Bucky said, half-turning to Loki. “See?” He turned back to me. “How’s it going, doll?”

I shook my head. “Feeling stupid, as usual,” I sighed. I looked up at Loki, guilt twisting in my gut. I _really_ hadn’t wanted him to see that. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” I said. _Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry._

“You’re -?” Loki half-shouted, stopping himself even before Bucky spun on a heel and started to stand. He combed a hand through his hair and took a few cautious steps closer. “Sergeant Barnes has told me - there’s no need to apologise, darling.”

I used the canvas seats I’d been half-hiding behind to pull me upright, Bucky half-hovering next to me. But the world didn’t start spinning, and I felt normal again. _Normal. Ha._

“Quit hovering, Barnes,” I said with a smile that still felt forced. “I’m fine.” A real smile this time. “Thanks for coming.”

“Anytime.” I turned my attention back to Loki, who was looking at me as if I might suddenly get up and run away. Well, it wasn’t so unreasonable, based on his experience today. 

I went right up to him and put my arms around him. His arms came around me, much more hesitantly. “I am sorry you saw that,” I said softly. He made a noise of disagreement, but I just spoke over it. “Especially before I got a chance to tell you what happened.”

Loki’s arms tightened briefly, then relaxed. “Perhaps we should get to the safe house - you can tell me all about it then.” I heard the sadness in his voice, and held him tighter before releasing him. 

“You know, you aren’t responsible for what happened to me.” I whispered it in his ear, so low Bucky might not have heard it.

“I love you,” he replied. I knew he didn’t agree. I’d just have to change his mind. 

“Love you too.”


	34. Down With Everybody But Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki meets the gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely had fun writing the end of this one...
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

“Well, I guess I’ll see you back at the house,” Bucky said, and I noticed for the first time that Bucky’s lower half was completely covered in snow.

“How the heck did that happen?” I asked, gesturing at his pants, which were slowly losing their snow cover and darkening as the snow melted.

“I called him,” Loki replied. I turned again, starting to feel like a ping-pong ball. Loki’s face, which had been starting to relax, darkened once more. “I… didn’t know what to do, so I radioed Barton for help. He sent Sergeant Barnes.”

“And, what, you ran here?” I asked, incredulous.

Barnes nodded. “Not a big deal. Or at least, it won’t be if we get me out of these wet things before I die of exposure. Then what would we do?”

“Pshaw,” I said, waving my hand at him. I did want to thank him, again, for helping me down of my cliff, for running half a mile in metre-thick snow to my rescue, but I’d tried that before. It didn’t work. I settled for giving him a grateful smile.

“Now, do I need to escort you two to the safe house, or does Reindeer boy know how to work a snowmobile?”

“I will manage,” Loki said, a bit stiffly. “You have my thanks, Sergeant Barnes.”

“TTFN, Dunham,” Bucky said, gave a wave, and trotted down the ramp.

“You ain’t Tigger, Walter,” I half-shouted behind him, and I saw Bucky holding up his hand in what was no doubt an obscene hand gesture. I smiled. “So, shall we get back to the house?” I asked, turning back to Loki.

“Indeed.” I spotted the snowmobile tethered down in the bowels of the ship and moved with Loki to undo all the straps. We worked in silence for about thirty seconds, as I debated whether or not to ask Loki exactly what was bothering him. Because clearly something was. It was written all over his face, in his jerky movements, in the furrowing of his brow.

_Screw it._

“What’s wrong?” I asked. Loki’s head jerked up, eyes meeting mine.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s bothering you.” I started to tug on the last strap, trying to get it loose - and who had bothered tying it down so damn tight anyway? Probably one of those super soldiers, not thinking about the way their super strength caused trouble for us mere mortals.

“You and Barnes seem… friendly,” and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bucky Barnes is an incorrigible flirt,” I said. “But he’s just a friend.”

“And yet he came running - literally - when I said you were in distress.”

I started to speak, then stopped. Instead of saying anything, I just moved around the snowmobile and put my arms around Loki. “That’s what friends are for, oh idiot of mine.” I felt, rather than heard, the short chuckle that rumbled through Loki’s chest. “Besides,” I said, lightly as I could, “They all know I’m taken. They don’t know who yet, but that’s about to change. Now. Do you know how to drive a snowmobile?”

 

****

Loki didn’t, as it turned out, know how to drive a snowmobile. Thankfully, Hunter had noticed my eyeing the machines at the safe house a few days ago and had taken it upon himself to give me a crash course. So, not a few minutes later, we were making our way, fairly sedately - I didn’t want to crash or dislodge either of us from our seats - towards the safe house, Loki’s hands very firmly about my middle.

“It seems we have a welcoming party,” he murmured in my ear as we approached. I hadn’t had the mental capacity to look around, but, sure enough, when I glanced up to the house, there were the black dots of people.

_We’ll be fine._

“Of course we will.”

I must have said it out loud - must have lost even more marbles than I’d thought. “Not far to go,” I half-shouted in response, not having the option of speaking quietly in Loki’s ear.

I was thankful of the distraction of driving the snowmobile. I couldn’t look at the approaching faces of the people I’d been living with, couldn’t examine their faces for the shock I was sure was written therein. It didn’t matter, I told myself firmly. I wouldn’t be seeing them long anyway. I had to go back to my universe.

I wasn’t looking forward to it - I was carefully cataloguing every second spent with Loki as a precious resource, especially as I knew it was finite. I was going to have to leave him. Again. And who knew what that would do - to both of us.

I slowed as we pulled up to the gang, only seeing their faces as I shut off the snowmobile - Coulson, Jemma, Skye, May, and Hunter. I assumed Bucky was inside, changing into pants that weren’t covered in rapidly melting snow.

Coulson surveyed me with a calculating eye, and I could tell he was debating whether or not to ask if I was ok. I beat him to it.

“I’m fine, Coulson. Stupid panic attacks.”

“Another one?” That was Jemma, who sounded concerned.

“It’s fine. I was due.” I waved it off as best as I was able. “Anyway. Everyone, this is Loki. Loki, you’ve met Coulson, these are Dr. Jemma Simmons, Agent Skye, Agent Melinda May, and Lance Hunter, lately of Her Majesty’s 22nd.”

“The 22nd?” I could hear Loki’s eyebrows raising. I knew he’d made the connection. Dad had been in the 22nd. I did think that was why we got on as well as we did. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”

Silence.

“Well this is friendly,” I said finally, feeling tired and cranky and wanting to get inside - I needed headache tablets and some water before the pounding in my head turned into a proper headache.

“It’s understandable,” Loki said, putting a hand on my arm to stop me heading into the house. “I apologise. I realise this must be a shock for you all, and I’m sure you do not wish me anywhere near you.”

“Well, no one ever said you were dumb,” Skye put in.

“Indeed not,” Loki agreed. “I do have one request, however.”

“Of course you do.” This time the quip came from Hunter.

I was impressed Loki hadn’t flown off the handle yet. Instead, he was standing next to me, calm as anything. “I would ask that you not change any of your attitudes towards Tessa because of her association with me. She values you as friends and allies - please do not allow me to change that.”

“What’s she to you?” That was Hunter, protective instincts showing.

“Hunter,” I said warningly. “That’s really none of your business.”

“Do you not want them to know?” Loki asked softly, and I turned to him.

I shook my head slowly. “No. No. I’m proud of you. I’m not ashamed.” Skye made a noise in the background.

“Very well then.” Loki took my hand in his, and I felt every eye snap towards our interlinked fingers. “Tessa is the woman I love. Will that suffice, Mr. Hunter?”

“Wait _what_?”


End file.
